Diagnosis
by Taylor1991
Summary: Harry is diagnosed with cancer during 6th year, turning his world upside down and making him re-think every aspect of his life. Harry is about to make the hardest decision of his life, can he deal with the resulting landslide? He decides to make some changes before it's too late, and complete a "Before I Die" list, on which love steals a space. OOC! HD adopted with permission
1. Chapter 1

Diagnosis

Summary: Harry is diagnosed with cancer during 6th year, turning his world upside down and making him re-think every aspect of his life. He decides to make some changes before it's too late, and complete a "Before I Die" list, on which love steals a space. Harry is about to make the hardest decision of his life, will he be prepared to deal with the landslide that results from that decision? OOC! HD adopted with permission from angelindisguise247

Warnings: OOCness, possible character death (this isn't taking into consideration what might or might not happen to Harry), sexual innuendos, het and slash sex of an explicit nature, descriptions of terminal illness and the various ways of treating it, which do in some way resemble the more commonly known of these, chemo, and violence. This chapter has been edited for continuity and grammar mistakes on 6-20-13.

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine, I just like to borrow to amuse myself :) I don't make any money from this either. So, please don't sue me :) Adopted with full permission from angelindisguise247

Authors Note is at the bottom.

Chapter One - Diagnosis

In recent times, it could be said that an anxious depression seemed to have taken hold of the entire population, both muggle and wizard alike. It spread like a disease in an epidemic fashion, born from the knowledge that he was back and determined to live up to his formidable reputation. It was easily noticeable in the faces of those that passed you in the street as they scurried along, even in their children's eyes as they questioned the unexplainable, yet undeniable, frantic quality to their parent's barks to just hurry up already!

There was only one place left untouched by the mounting hysteria, a place that gave the gift of separation from the world outside to its students. Here, at Hogwarts, the children still laughed, made jokes, hung out with friends, and complained about the last-minute homework stealing their precious time, knowing they were safe.

One noteworthy student, however, did not particularly feel up to taking advantage of the rare but happy atmosphere that the castle offered, the blanket of magic wrapped around him giving no comfort

hdhdhd

Poppy Pomfrey stared at the boy sitting rigidly on the bed in front of her, waiting for his reaction as he absorbed the heavy words that had dropped from her lips just moments ago. She couldn't help but be afraid of having to consider the meaning of them herself, but as a dedicated healer she could not shy away from the time-bomb that had presented itself to her. She had a duty to be strong and provide the support that would undoubtedly be needed from her.

"You can't tell anyone." His voice finally breathed, quickly bringing her out of her daze.

"What?" she asked shocked. She had prepared herself for a lot of possible reactions but this one had failed to cross her mind.

"Please Poppy, I need you to keep this secret for me," her most frequent visitor pleaded of her, and a pleading Harry Potter was almost impossible to deny.

"Why on earth would you want me to do that? Don't you want to get help? Support? Your friends would most certainly want to be informed of something like this! Are you intending to keep them in the dark?" she questioned incredulously. Harry bowed his head so that she couldn't read his facial expressions, but when he looked her in the eye once more with a desperate glint in his vibrant green eyes she sighed and conceded defeat, appallingly easily.

"Very well. Dumbledore "

"Not even Dumbledore." came the unexpected clarification.

"Seriously? But "

"Please Poppy, just trust me that I need this to be kept confidential!" the woman's mouth abruptly clacked shut.

"Alright. I won't tell anyone Harry." Harry shot her a relieved, grateful smile, even if it did seem like a mere shadow of what it usually was. This only made Pomfrey want to give the boy a much-needed hug, but she held herself back. If she came over all emotional in front of him she may just set him off too.

"May I go?"

"Sorry? Oh! Um, well, yes I suppose you might as well. I won't have any of the pain potions in for a few days yet, but if you pop in and see me at some point, I can give them to you then. There's also the matter of another potion that I wish to discuss with you when you do."

"Thanks." Harry hopped down off of the bed and started in the direction of the door.

"Perhaps you'd like to stay here? Just tonight?" Poppy asked his back concernedly, only to be refused with the reassurance that he was fine as he walked out the door and left her standing there biting her lip and wondering what exactly this would all mean.

hdhdhd

Brain cancer.

He had a cancer of the brain.

'What did that mean?' Harry wondered dazedly as he meandered back to the Gryffindor common room. Well, he knew the obvious stuff. Like how he could die. But he didn't know how advanced the cancer was. What were his chances? Was he supposed to get that treatment that made all of your hair fall out? What did this mean for the rest of the world?

Madame Pomfrey probably could have answered a lot of his questions, and no doubt was actually supposed to tell him all of this while he was there, but to be fair she looked more shocked and confused than he had felt. He suspected she hadn't had her mind organized enough to think of all that after the impact of the news. Or maybe she simply hadn't had the heart to go into detail about the disease that was slowly killing him.

Either way Harry didn't want anyone to find out. If it turned out that he could be treated and eventually cured, then it wouldn't be necessary to have everyone worrying and depressed over him. If not well, Harry wanted the time to take it all in and make sure he understood everything he needed to know and what he needed to do before he even thought about telling anyone. Even then the drama would no doubt interfere with everything. People wouldn't be able to prepare for exams properly, and the time they spent with Harry would be tainted with the thought in the back of their minds that this would be some of the last moments they shared with him.

No, Harry would keep this secret.

"Hey Harry, how'd it go?"

Harry looked up across the Gryffindor common room from his position in the portrait hole to a smiling Hermione sitting at the table in front of the fire doing homework with Ron. He walked over, an answering smile on his lips, and sat down on the couch next to Ron.

"Fine. She's getting some migraine potions for me in a few days." Hermione frowned concernedly.

"I thought you said it was just headaches? Did she find anything wrong? I know you think it's just Voldemort, but these ones seemed different to the other times, y'know? Just, the way you act when you have one isn't the same."

"Geez 'Mione, don't worry so much, loads of people are just prone to migraines you know. It doesn't mean something awful is wrong with him and he's gonna drop dead tomorrow! Hannah in Hufflepuff gets them all the time and she's fine." Ron answered jokingly, poking fun at Hermione for her worry over Harry and saving him from having to think of something to say.

"Oh shut up Ron, I know that perfectly fine, I was just asking for heaven's sake, that's more than what you did." Ron just raised his eyebrows in response to Hermione rolling her eyes at him.

"Oh, well excuse me! Someone's moody today aren't they?"

"Well what do you expect when-"

"Guys, I'm just going to head upstairs and go to sleep, okay? My bed's sounding pretty tempting right about now; I was up late last night."

"Sure Harry, goodnight."

"Night Harry."

The sounds of Ron and Hermione's escalating bickering floated on the air as Harry climbed the stairs to his dorm room, realizing how tired he actually felt. He stripped down completely and climbed into bed, leaving his pajama bottoms at the bottom of the bed so that he could put them on inside the confines of the curtains in the morning. He did not particularly want to get up and walk around while giving his dorm mates an eyeful after all. He found it uncomfortable to sleep wearing pajamas, though he sometimes wore a t-shirt to bed when it was cold. The covers were pleasantly cool and welcoming, allowing him to lie in comfort as he let his consciousness drift until sleep took him.

hdhdhd

The next day Harry couldn't help but start to think that his visit to Pomfrey had simply been a horrible dream. Everything was so normal. Nothing had changed at all. He almost expected some kind of major event to happen, something weird maybe, anything really which would reflect the life-altering diagnosis from Pomfrey. But the world kept turning around him anyway. As a result, Harry had succeeded in pushing the issue to the back of his mind to hopefully be forgotten about.

'I mean, really, what's the point of going back to see Pomfrey? She hadn't even explained what potion she was on about last night anyway.'

However, before he could fully attempt to write off the whole incident as some kind of nightmare in a bid to avoid dealing with it, Madame Pomfrey appeared in the doorway of his last period potions class.

"I apologize Severus, but may I borrow Mr. Potter? I need to talk something over with him about his last visit to me. I would have done it at the time but, well, I forgot." Here she blushed in a sheepishly embarrassed way, raising a few eyebrows, the most notable of which belonged to Draco Malfoy.

Since when did Madame Pomfrey do anything other than be efficient, organized, unflappable, and dependable? Draco wondered vaguely what Potter had managed to do to put her in such a tizzy and glanced up at his godfather, who was standing in front of his cauldron, to see if he thought the phenomenon was rather strange as well. Severus glanced down to meet his eyes once, confirming that he too had noticed the oddity in Pomfrey's behavior, besides the fact that this was quite possibly the first time he knew of that the healer had come to a class to fetch someone personally.

Both Slytherins then looked over at the boy in question. Harry had gone a sickly pale color and seemed frozen in place, his eyes fixed on his desk in front of him.

"Certainly Poppy. Potter, I do believe that Madame Pomfrey is waiting."

There was a moment when it seemed like Harry would ignore both adults and remain where he sat instead, but after the suspiciously long pause he rose to his feet, trying to concentrate on breathing normally. He maneuvered himself between desks and students till he reached Poppy, though he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye.

The door closed behind the pair and it was as though a strange spell had been lifted and the rest of the world filtered back into Draco's mind, allowing him to more or less dismiss his curiosity of the incident with the passing thought that perhaps Potter was shagging Pomfrey, allowing a smirk to bloom and die on his lips in quick succession at his own, unvoiced joke.

Severus's eyes, however, lingered on the closed door and Harry's empty seat, a thoughtful frown gracing his harsh features.

hdhdhd

"I'm surprised that you didn't come back to see me yet, what with all the questions I left unanswered." Pomfrey made an attempt at a weak smile as she joked about the state she'd been in the night before, but this gained no reaction from Harry, who watched the stones of the castle pass under him as he walked.

"Poppy? If I I mean, when I get really badly ill can I please stay here? I don't want to be sent back to the Dursley's if it's getting about time for me to...to die." Harry mumbled, uncomfortable asking in the face of the likelihood that what he spoke of would indeed come to pass. Pomfrey's facial expression saddened at the reminder of how her and Harry had become so close.

Every school year began with the now standard check-up and healing of Harry. She had been horrified in his first year at her discovery of the wretched abuse everyone's favorite young man had endured at the hands of those charged with his care and protection. Harry had pleaded confidentiality then as well.

Of course Poppy couldn't give him that, certainly not when he was clearly being hurt so badly on such a regular basis at "home". However, her attempt at informing Dumbledore had been rewarded with nothing more than the claim that, despite the boy's obvious pain, the blood wards would keep him safe and protected from death eaters. He didn't care how much Harry hurt, as long as he remained living.

In the end, she had decided to do the one thing she could do, and the one thing she had once sworn would not happen: she developed a healthy relationship with the boy, beyond the distant and aloof kind of relationship of patient and healer she shared with other students. If no one else would listen to him and care for him then she would, regardless of the fact that it was technically favoring one student above others.

He deserved it.

He needed it.

And Pomfrey could tell Harry basked in having someone he could share his thoughts and feelings with. She squeezed his shoulder lightly and said, "Of course you can Harry, you're always welcome. I would invite you into my own home if it came down to it." Harry glanced at her out of grateful green eyes and smiled, conveying his thanks and allowing her to scrunch her nose up and grin at him in affection as she raised her hand to his head and messed up his hair.

'At least he can still smile.' thought Poppy. 'As long as he can be happy we'll get through this.'

hdhdhd

When, at last, Harry was secreted away in Poppy's office, she forcefully reigned in her emotions and allowed her professionalism to take over once more.

"Right then. I will tell you what I know and then once I am finished you may ask any questions I have not yet answered." Harry nodded, biting his lip and playing with the large holes in the knees of his trousers. Other people had thankfully attributed them to a preference of the scruffy style of fashion on his part.

"As I told you yesterday, I have diagnosed you with brain cancer. Specifically you have a tumor growing in your head, that is what is causing the headaches. Unfortunately it is very advanced, surprisingly so. I believe your magic has somehow been keeping you healthier than you should be at this stage."

"However, magic can't do everything, and despite the fact you're body is clearly fighting tooth and nail to survive, the cancer will eventually win. In fact, if anything, it would have been better if your magic had done nothing, we probably could have caught the disease earlier."

"I'm afraid by this point you'd have no chance in the muggle world. In the wizarding world your chances are, while slightly better, still slim to none, however, with a rigorous combination of muggle medicine and an extremely rare wizarding potion might slightly increase your odds. This treatment plan like in the muggle world will be a fine balancing act that could naturally kill you before the cancer does. It's going to be a hard road ahead for you, if you choose this. When you've chosen the course of action or inaction that you wish to pursue, let me know." Here Pomfrey gripped the cushions of her seat in a tight grip, reminding herself she had to do this.

"If you decide not to seek a treatment that I've heard is more intensive than muggle chemo therapy then I'm afraid that the best we can really do is treat the symptoms as they come to make you as comfortable and active as possible for as long as possible. As time goes on you're likely to experience a number of symptoms, as I just mentioned, some of which may include migraines, loss of the senses such as taste, sight or smell, fainting spells, memory loss."

"How long?" Harry cut her off. There was a pause.

"Harry, I know you feel like you're supposed to be involved in the defeat of Voldemort, but don't feel like you have a time-limit or anything in which you have to kill him. Dumbledore and The Order can handle it. In reality you're still just a teenager, you should have no place in such a war!"

"Poppy. How long before I die?"

Pomfrey sighed.

"I would say a year give or take a while unless you decide to seek treatment."

"And if I am willing to give this a shot, then how much longer will I gain," inquired Harry.

"Provided that we contact the foremost wizarding oncologist and you're willing to undergo muggle tests to determine where the tumor is growing on your brain, at worst two to three years and I'd say that at the very best, your magic and the drugs could put the cancer into remission. This of course would mean that you'd have to come up with an alias to disguise yourself whilst you're in muggle London for any necessary tests and treatment," said Poppy calmly. "I know that you asked for this to be kept confidential, but I would have to inform both the healer and the person brewing the potions regimen of your true identity, because one of the potions requires both your magical signature and a sample of your blood each time it is administered."

Harry gulped nervously.

"Merlin spare me, the brewer in question doesn't happen to be a certain potions master now does he, and what do you mean, one of the potions ? How many vile concoctions are you planning on me signing up to willingly poison myself with daily?"

"That would entirely be up to you my dear," Poppy answered. "But sometimes its best to put aside old grudges in order to have the best outcome. Professor Snape is one of the finest potions masters I know and your best chance at making a meaningful recovery."

Harry really didn't know how to feel about this. It was all too much too soon. Undergoing treatment would weaken him considerably, and if Lord Voldemort were to find out about his illness, he'd be a goner for sure!

"Can I have some time to think it all over?"

"Sure lad. Though I must caution you not to wait too long. And once you make the final decision, I'll contact the healer I mentioned promptly, for he knows more about this than I do, that's why I don't feel comfortable explaining the particulars of your treatment to you at this time. I don't want to give you the wrong information."

Now it might be all worth it if the healer is a hunk with muscular biceps and warm hands: not to mention washboard abs.

Harry was broken out of his revelry by Poppys quiet chuckling. "Are we perhaps getting a little turned on by the thought of your healer being a fine piece of arse?" Many a Hogwarts student would have looked at Poppy askance at her choice in words, but Poppy had seen Harry through what had formally (until the other day) been his worst moments, and she knew that a dose of humor would help his mood immensely even if only momentarily.

"Thank you for your candor Poppy," stated Harry. "But I'm just not ready for you to breach that confidentiality clause just yet."

"I understand dear," said Poppy kindly. "When you're ready, feel free to come and see me, whatever you decide, my office is always open."

They both sat in silence for a long time. Until a brilliant plan popped into Madame Pomfrey's mind. There was in fact something that she could do to both improve her favorite patient's vision for as long as possible and his appearance simultaneously.

"Harry," asked Poppy hesitantly, not sure if he'd had time to come to terms with what little she had told him about his condition and his options thus far.

"Yes ma'am?"

"I've noticed of late that your prescription seems to be rather outdated. Would you like me to try to give your vision a touch up? I must tell you though, if the tumor encroaches either the optic nerve or the occipital lobe of the brain, there's nothing that can be done and these glasses won't work. However, in the meantime, I can make you look like the hottest person to ever walk these walls, if you'd like, I can even change the shape and look of your glasses if you so choose." That did it. Poppy's talk of the tumor doing so much damage that glasses would cease to work for him got through to Harry the seriousness of his predicament, as nothing previously had done.

"W-would a test be able to reveal that information? Is there any way to determine if the tumor has spread to the optic nerve or is growing on or near the o-occipital whatever?"

"As a matter of fact, there is, but such matters can't be determined by any magical body scan that I'm aware of. I'm afraid that if you wanted to find that out, you'd have to allow me to contact that healer I spoke of to you earlier."

As much as Harry needed some answers, he wasn't ready for the possibility of finding out that he would no longer be able to fly, because the tumor might cause him to suffer vision loss, so he answered in the negative. "I'm just not ready yet I know that there'll come a time that I will need to take the initiative and grow the balls to go to a muggle cancer research hospital, but I beg of you a few weeks so that I can get my thoughts in order," stated Harry firmly. "I don't know how much you're aware of how muggles practice medicine, or treat illnesses, in all fairness, I don't know much either. However, I do know that as soon as they see my brain scans, if the tumor is really as advanced as you fear, they're going to want a definite answer as to whether I want to start treatment or not."

"Yes, Mr. Potter. That's probably exactly how things would pan out, but you have to understand that the longer you delay treatment, the harder you'll have to fight for your life. And I'm afraid that that would mean the more chemicals we'd have to pump into your body." Harry was willing to risk it, the question was, was Poppy? She had stuck with him through everything, and even went to bat for him when the Headmaster refused to do something about his so-called relatives mistreatment of him. It hadn't done a lick of good, but it was the thought that counted, right?

"Okay," said Poppy with a note of finality in her tone. "Take off your glasses and stand over here." Poppy gestured to a spot in the center of the room where she had drawn an x with her wand. Once Harry was in position, Poppy conjured a standard eye chart and stuck it to the wall with a flick of the wand. "Place your left hand over your right eye please."

Harry felt rather silly doing this, as at primary school, the school nurse had handed him a patch to hold instead. He mused that it looked a far sight less ridiculous than he did now. Harry decided to take a quick rest while Poppy moved the chart up a bit further on the infirmary wall.

"Stand again, please, cover your left eye this time and read the top line for me." Madame Pomfrey said and with a tired sigh he stood and did what his healer had asked of him. Why did the matron have to know so much about medical things that were unrelated to cancer?

Harry stood up and covered his left eye, taking a step back when Poppy motioned for him to stand a bit further away. He squinted his right eye, trying to focus on the awfully blurry shape. It wasn't too difficult to make out that it was an 'E', but it amazed him just how blurry that 'E' was.

"It's an 'E'." he said, trying to not sound as if it were a question. "An 'O' and an 'A' I think."

Poppy nodded, timing just how long it took Harry to answer her and judging the boy's strained stance, his head slightly turned to the left while she at the same time cast a spell at the boy's eyes, having noticed Harry squinting his eye, and she frowned.

"The third line, then." she said, trying to sound as emotionless as possible while she didn't really like that the boy was barely sure concerning the first line. His left eye was already bad, but he at least had had some conviction in what he thought he saw for the first two lines, but now his vision was appalling. Blast muggle cancer! Harry would not take the news well, so she wasn't going to tell him that the charm that would enable the lenses to change prescriptions as his eyes worsened was not in fact the norm. It would only upset him further.

The rest of the impromptu eye exam went by in the same fashion. Until Poppy tore the chart off the wall with gusto. She had to persuade the boy to change his glasses style and make now that his vision was so poor, his old frames just wouldn't suffice. Harry needed a wider lens on his right eye especially to make up for the newly developed deficit of his peripheral vision. "Alright then Harry, you may take a seat. I need to ask you, are you willing to change your old glasses for some new ones?"

"What do you mean exactly?"

"Your eye exam has shown me that your prescription has never been right for you. So I wonder how a muggle Optometrist failed to notice this? Any Occulist would have never made such an obtuse error."

Harry was slightly irritated that she apparently thought that his trusty old frames weren't good looking enough for her.

"Well, when I was in the second grade, my teacher noticed that I was having some trouble making out what she wrote on the chalk board. A note was sent to the Dursleys informing them that I needed glasses. This just gave Petunia another reason to find me defective. Since I knew that they would never take me to a real eye doctor, I went to see the school nurse to make sure that I needed glasses and she agreed with my teacher."

"I don't want to hear you refer to yourself as that ever again. Do you understand me," demanded Poppy, hands on hips furious at the attempted brainwashing on the boy concerning his magic and his eye sight. Having problems seeing was a common complaint amongst school children how dare his aunt try and tell him otherwise! It seemed every time she spoke of his so-called relatives with Harry, she learned more about just how obnoxious and despicable they were.

"So instead of taking me to a GP she took me to a charity bin and had me pick out some spectacles." Poppy was astounded. How did Harry get through his day-to-day tasks? He played Quidditch for years without being able to properly see whose team was who's apparently. How did she fail to notice until now?

"Um Harry," asked Poppy tentatively. "How did you manage to catch the Snitch with such accuracy? The eye exam that I gave you would indicate that such a feat would be impossible with your eye sight."

"I learned how to focus entirely on one thing, the Snitch. Its golden color helped me distinguish it from the other balls rather well if I may say so myself," said Harry cheekily.

"Back to my previous question Mr. Potter. Don't think that your little distraction gambit worked on me for an instant. I asked about your willingness to change the shape of your frames for a reason."

"And what exactly is that?"

Deciding to give the overstressed boy a break Poppy said, "You're right eyes peripheral vision is horrid and I don't want you to walk around looking like a fool, with one lenses wider than the other."

Harry sighed exasperatedly.

He liked his glasses just the way they were thankyouverymuch.

"If you must, but why is it necessary? The Dursleys always said I was a freak, and I have no intentions of making myself look like one."

Harry handed the matron his glasses against his better judgment. Within moments, Poppy had cast the necessary charms that would allow him to see as well for as long as possible.

Poppy conjured a mirror so that Harry could try on the different glasses that would fit his needs best, but just to add some humor into the mix, Poppy's first choice was an exact replica of Albus Dumbledores half mooned spectacles. With a smile, Poppy handed him the frames. "Here, try these on."

Harry was just ready to get this whole thing over with all-bloody ready, so he complied without looking at the ghastly looking glasses that he now held.

Poppy couldn't help herself upon seeing Harry's striking new look and she burst into uncontrollable laughter. "I t-think t-that t-those a-are t-the o-ones," stammered Poppy.

"Maybe for meddling old coots, but the many-Headmaster look doesn't appeal to my delicate sensibilities."

"Give them to me," said Poppy having now got her laughter under wraps again. Harry did as she bid and waited patiently for the next absurdly out-of-fashion pair that she had in store for him. He allowed the farce, because he could tell that the weight of having informing her favorite patient that he could and probably would more than likely be dead before he reached the age of seventeen hadn't been a walk in the park for her either. It had been difficult enough just listening to the words; he didn't want to imagine how hard it would be to be given the task of telling someone that they did have a deadly form of cancer and that it could prove terminal.

Harrys understanding for Poppys need to use him as her personal manikin were quickly coming to an end as he next found himself sporting triangular framed glasses next. And to top it all, they were black framed. "If you're trying to assist me in catching some pretty little bird with these, don't bother it won't do you any good as I prefer a well-muscled bloke any day over some damsel in distress." But then again Poppy already knew this bit of information because she had been the one to whom Harry had come to asking for advice about his sexuality in the first place.

"Witch Weekly's got it all wrong, I'll remain an available batchelor in their eyes until the day I find a sexy guy to join with and man what an uproar it'll cause when they find out that their savior is unashamedly a queer."

"Is that so? So you're not one of those closet gays who will do anything to prevent their friends and families from finding out that they find the opposite sex unappealing? Good for you. There aren't many people in the wizarding world who have the guts that you do to freely admit that they'll never produce an heir; well that's not entirely accurate, some males do get pregnant, but it's extremely rare, and some pure-bloods shun those males who are with child..."

Harry smirked.

"Why should I be a shamed of who I am? In the muggle world, attitudes towards such issues aren't what I'd call accepting towards us, though they're more tolerant of the fact that we can see who we bloody well please than the wizarding world is."

"Ahem," coughed Poppy. "Try these on. I really do believe that these will do the trick." Harry had enough sense to actually look at the frames this time as she proffered them to him. Ah these would do nicely. In fact, when he tried them on, Harry Potter smirked pleased with his new look. The glasses were rectangular in shape, were black rimmed, and both corners had tiny Snitches adorning them which were silver colored. He looked rather smashing if he may say so himself.

"Thank you Poppy," said Harry getting up and hugging her fiercely in gratitude. "You know, if anyone had asked me before now if I had a problem with my glasses I'd tell them to shove off cause I'm perfectly happy with my appearance. But now that I've tried these on, I wouldn't change them for anything in the world! However, I really like the snitches, but as you pointed out, I'll have to go to the muggle world if I choose to seek treatment, so how will the snitches be disguised?"

"You're welcome. And when I changed your prescription, I put a glammour on them that would make the snitches look like silver studs, I've heard that silver studded jeans are popular in the muggle world, so that should do nicely."

Harry stood up and strode to the door with a spring in his step calling over his shoulder, "I'll see you later. Thanks again."

Harry made his way to the Gryffindor common room, so lost in thought was he that he hardly noticed as he walked right through Nearly Headless Nick. The discomfiture that was associated with walking through a ghost didn't even faze him. If he hadn't walked this path so much then he would more than likely have ended up hopelessly lost, because his only saving grace was that his feet kept up a drumming rhythm that eventually led him to the Fat Lady. He was walking on autopilot.

Upon clambering through the portrait hole, Harry trudged up to the sixth year dorm. He didn't stop for anything, even for Hermione who tried but failed spectacularly at gaining her friends wondering attention. She had no idea that at this very moment, her best friend who had been there through thick and thin was facing the biggest and hardest decision of his short life, one that would dictate whether he made it to his Hogwarts graduation or not.

Ron followed hot on his friends heels. Even Godric Gryffindor wouldn't have ever predicted that Harry would decide to get a sleek new pair of glasses, and Ron was going to be the first to get the details

A/N: Hope you liked the alterations I made to the fic that I adopted. I included the scene with Harry getting new glasses because the chapter needed a dash of humor to accompany the heavy overtones. Also, Draco's bound to notice his new glasses and by proxy him. Please let me know if there are any formatting problems, as I'm uploading the fic to the site using a screen reader and I more than likely will not notice the problem otherwise. Just to warn you from the get-go, this is going to be a slash story, don't like, don't read. The romance will develop at a slow pace as I aim to make this fic as realistic as possible. Click that little button, I won't bite.


	2. 2 Growth and Development

Diagnosis

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine, I just like to borrow to amuse myself :) I don't make any money from this reither.

Summary: Harry is diagnosed with cancer during 6th year, turning his world upside down and making him re-think every aspect of his life. He decides to make some changes before it's too late, and complete a "Before I Die" list, on which love steals a space. Harry is about to make the hardest decision of his life, will he be prepared to deal with the landslide that results from that decision? OOC! HD adopted with permission from angelindisguise247

Warnings: OOCness, possible character death (this isn't taking into consideration what might or might not happen to Harry), sexual innuendos, het and slash sex of an explicit nature, descriptions of terminal illness and the various ways of treating it, which do in some way resemble the more commonly known of these, chemo, and violence.

Chapter 2 – Growth and Development

Harry sat down at the dinner table and eyed the evening's choice of meals. This was a bad idea really, because what he found was the last thing he wanted to have to deal with right now. He really couldn't be bothered with it. Really, REALLY couldn't be bothered with it.

"Urgh!" he exclaimed in disgust and let his head fall down onto his folded arms on the table; Ginny giggled.

"Alright there Harry?"

"Nnnngh!" was Harry's reply, completely mangled and impossible to make out because of the fact that his nose was squished against the back of his hand. However, it did get the general point across and it put an amused smile on Hermione's face.

Harry lifted his head up so that he could be heard.

"I SO can NOT be bothered trying to guess what the hell the ingredients are for every freaking dish here. Whose idea was it to change the menu and experiment with the meal rotation anyway? I may have to kill them."

"Don't be so dramatic Harry, it's not that bad." said Hermione, still smiling.

"Says you. You can just pick up whatever you want and stuff your face. You don't have to analyse it so much that the last thing you want to do is eat it by the time you're done with it."

"I bet I can beat you this time, I only lost by one point last time remember? It was that cappuccino. Who uses eggs to make the foamy bit anyway? Any normal person uses just milk." Neville joined in.

"Sorry Neville, I'm not really in the mood. And besides, I still wouldn't have been able to drink a cappuccino anyway, even if it didn't have the eggs in it, milk has lactose remember?" Harry leaned his head in his hand—fully prepared to just go without eating—and sighed.

The smiles from his friends faded at Harry's lack of enthusiasm for their attempt at making a bit of a game from the necessary task of figuring out which meal had what ingredients in it.

"It's alright Harry, I spoke to Dobby in the kitchens earlier and he mentioned that they were trying out different things tonight. He said you could eat the spaghetti bolognaise when I mentioned your allergies."

"Thanks Ron, you're officially my favorite person right now." Harry spooned half a plate-full of food for himself and gave a tired kind of sigh. Once he had begun eating and talking to Neville, Ron and Hermione took turns at adding more bits and pieces of spaghetti bolognaise to Harry's plate when they thought he wouldn't notice throughout the meal, as was the routine.

Noticing an oddity at the staff table, Harry asked, "'Mione, have you noticed that the Headmaster has been unusually absent at mealtimes lately? It isn't at all like him."

Hermione shook her head in exasperation at her dear friend's mile wide curiosity streak. This wasn't the first time this term that he'd brought this to their attention. "He's both the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the head of the Wizingamot, he's bound to miss a meal or two, and with his ability to do wandless magic, and he can summon food from the kitchens any time he pleases. I don't mind to seem rude, but he doesn't answer to you."

Harry scowled.

This wasn't the first time his friends had brushed off his all-too real (in his opinion) concern.

"Yes but…these aren't ordinary circumstances. We're in a time of war."

"I don't disagree with you Harry, but if something is going on to cause him to be away from the school for long stretches of time, don't you think that a sensible man like him would take every necessary precaution to ensure our safety?"

"Yes. Of course, you're right, but after he left me in the dark last year…after what happened to S-sirius, I have every right to wonder if he's hiding stuff from me you know. He treated me like a bloody five-year-old. I'm not a child and haven't been for quite some time; I don't take kindly to being treated like one."

"I see your point, if it concerns you so, then just ask him," interjected Hermione kindly. "He's so use to having to keep information close to the vest that I don't honestly think that it was his intention to withhold whatever he has from you. I'm sorry if you feel left out and like he treated you like a mushroom by keeping you in the dark, but just talk to him about it." She knew that the Headmaster had told Harry something of great importance after the events at the Ministry, but hadn't pressed him for details yet. Perhaps that was the underlying cause of his curiosity and frustration where Dumbledore was concerned. Hermione decided that it was high time to change the conversation. What happened in June was a taboo subject around Harry these days.

For the first fifteen minutes or so of the meal Harry made an effort to include himself and act like he would normally, but he slowly began to fade from the conversation until he eventually was no longer even listening to his friends as they joked around and teased each other. They left him to his silence, knowing that if he didn't feel like talking there was no point in forcing him.

He held his glass of water in one hand and caught a droplet on the outside of the container with a fingertip, dragging it around the surface.

His friends thought he didn't notice when they made an effort to get him to eat more, but he did. He wasn't sure how long they had been doing it, but when he'd first realized it he had felt his heart warming at the thought that his friends would care about him enough to do such a thing.

He was really lucky to have met them that day in first year.

He couldn't help but feel sad that he would probably never get to see them as adults. That he might not get to see the kind of people they would become, or whether they changed for the better or worse. Who they would marry; what their kids would be like. He would miss it all.

But in a lot of ways he had already witnessed their growth and maturation. They had already begun developing into their more adult personalities, and Harry was positive they would all become amazing people.

He remembered Hermione as an eleven year old and smiled as he watched the girl in front of him speak happily and animatedly to Ginny, clearly content and comfortable. It was such a contrast to the small girl hiding under a bush of hair, utterly terrified she wasn't going to fit in. She had been so determined to prove her worth, by making it clear that she was intelligent and motivated to learn, adapt and fit in. Harry thought it was all just because she was unsure of herself in a new world where people seemed to dislike her on principle. She wanted so much to get herself a good reputation, and to be well liked among her teachers at this new school of hers. It was because of this that she had become almost obsessive about the rules. Harry didn't think he had ever seen anyone as highly-strung as Hermione.

But that was all different now. She was nowhere near as uptight and stressed out anymore. Instead she had mellowed out a lot and seemed far more relaxed about life in general. She understood that sometimes there are things more important than following rules. Her personality was much more friendly, open and welcoming. And she was much more understanding too, now that she could see things from a perspective beyond whatever would break the least rules. There was also, of course, the fact that she smiled much more than when Harry had first met her, and she had a spontaneous streak a mile wide, which Harry liked to think he and Ron had cultivated in her.

Well, maybe not that spontaneous, but whenever Harry and Ron decided to do something completely random and out of the blue she was always the first to come along and join in. She was a complete contrast to how she had started out at Hogwarts really.

Harry smiled and gave a quiet chuckle as the memories of his best friend flashed briefly in his mind's eye. He loved her to bits really. Who knew where he would be without her?

Giving in to the urge, Harry wrapped his arm loosely around Hermione's shoulders and brought her in to his side to give her the only sort of sideways hug that the table would allow. She turned her head and gave him a surprised look, but when he just smiled at her the expression quickly changed to one of happiness as she smiled back widely before turning back to her conversation without mentioning it. She did, however, exchange a pleased look with Ron as she tried to subdue her excitement at Harry's gesture of affection. Ron's expression answered her with hope.

Harry, however, saw nothing of this because he had just noticed Michael Corner get out of his seat, and was now watching as he made a move as if to approach their group. They all knew he and Ginny weren't on the best of terms and he had been spreading rumors about her and calling her names in an extremely childish retaliation to her rejection. It was as though he just couldn't accept she didn't like him like that anymore. At all.

Ginny was in the middle of talking to Lavender and Parvati about their latest encounters with the boys they liked, so they didn't notice the pending confrontation. Before the boy could do much, however, Ron grabbed a breadstick from the table and broke it cleanly in two, keeping eye contact with him unwaveringly. He then set about pointedly breaking it into tiny little pieces, which he then placed on his empty plate and crushed under his own glass of pumpkin juice enthusiastically. When he was finished, he simply stared at Michael, glanced back at the fine powder he had reduced the breadstick to, and spit in it for good measure. Michael simply turned around and sat back down, giving Ron a nervous look.

"Ew, Ron, what the hell did you do that for?" Hermione looked quite disgusted at Ron's glob of spit sitting in his plate. He just grinned at her.

"Sorry, thought a fly flew into my mouth. Don't you hate it when that happens?" Hermione just shook her head at him and returned to her conversation once more. Ron threw the Ravenclaw table one more glare for luck and resumed his own place in the conversation.

..:..:..:..:..

That night, when Harry and Ron were getting ready for bed, Harry overheard Dean and Seamus talking about Michael Corner on the stairs to the common room, reminding him of the incident in the hall.

"I saw that thing you did to Michael at dinner by the way," he commented, smiling in remembrance, prompting an answering grin to creep over Ron's face, who gave a snort of laughter.

"I was just showing the creep what'll happen if he keeps thinking he can mess with my sister. He's got guts I'll admit, being so obvious about coming to bother Ginny right in front of me, but that just gives me something to tear out of him and use as rope to hang him by." Ron's grin turned wicked.

"You're lucky the girls didn't notice." Harry pointed out, pulling his t-shirt over his head and messing his hair up even further.

"I know. I don't see why they'd get all annoyed at me for doing it though. I mean, seriously, they can't expect me to sit by and watch someone act like a complete git towards them. What kind of brother or friend would I be then? I'll tell you: a crappy one."

"Nah, I think they'd appreciate it on some level. It's probably more a case of wounded pride that they didn't fend off the bad guy for themselves if you know what I mean. They're hardly going to be annoyed at you for wanting to look out for them."

Harry sat down on his bed.

"Well, what can I say, I just want to make sure people treat them right. Our girls are special." Harry agreed with Ron silently, knowing that the friendship their group of friends shared was unparalleled by anyone else they knew. And the whole school knew it too.

Ron finished getting changed into his pajamas and stood looking at Harry for a second before he finally poked him in the stomach.

"How come you're so fit? It's not fair! I play Quidditch all the time at home and I don't have abs like that. What the bleeding hell makes you so special? And your new glasses really add to your fit appearance. If you were into females, then you'd be attracting chicks like crazy mate."

Harry laughed at his grumbling comment and rubbed the spot where he had poked his stomach.

"Why Ron, are you jealous? Honestly though, I'm obviously going to have better muscles than you if I spend pretty much every second of my holidays doing something active while you spend your time lazing around and trying to avoid homework when you aren't playing Quidditch, which, let's face it, isn't exactly much of a work-out, really." Harry teased his friend.

"Lazing? I'll give you lazing!" Ron shook his fist at Harry in mock anger. "And I doubt you do that much more compared to me, it's not like I don't do anything while I'm at home y'know! It's hard work living in a big family like ours!"

"Yeah, well, the Dursleys made me get a job over the past few summers doing a lot of heavy lifting and stuff. I lost that job though so this summer past I got another one in a fitness suite. 'Nuff said really." Harry shrugged.

Ron looked at Harry askance as he climbed under his covers and made himself comfy.

"They made you get a job? Why?"

Harry climbed into his own bed and took off his bottoms under the covers, kicking them to the bottom of the bed.

"They said I needed to earn my keep so to speak. I give them all my wages and they…look after me…kind of."

Ron looked at him with a confused expression for a moment.

"Is that one of those weird Muggle tradition things I won't understand?"

"…Yeah. Sure."

There was silence for a few moments while they got comfy enough to fall asleep, with Ron giving one more comment before preparing to dive into sleep (it could only possibly be described as diving, as opposed to drifting off to sleep, due to the phenomenal speed Ron always managed this with).

"I don't know why you always sleep naked Harry, but I'm damn glad you don't sleepwalk."

Harry just laughed.

Once Ron had turned away from facing Harry on his bed, Harry lifted his covers up and looked down at his stomach, trying to figure out how serious Ron was being. He trailed his fingers over his abs. He supposed he was really quite toned compared to most of the other boys. A satisfied smile crossed Harry's face at the compliment Ron had paid him, proud that he apparently had a great body. He'd never really thought about trying to stay toned and looking good, it was just chance that had his circumstances resulted in him leading a very active lifestyle. Despite most peoples' assumptions about him based on his clothes and his hair, Harry did care about how he looked.

Secretly he had often been upset about the clothes he had been made to wear when he was younger, and in the present day he commonly felt embarrassed to go out in public dressed like he did. He had learned not to let it show however, because if he did then people picked up on it, which just brought more attention onto his atrocious wardrobe for people to make fun of. So he was thrilled that Ron had said he was fit. It was something good to balance the bad in his appearance.

Keeping in mind that he wasn't working at Hogwarts like he was at "home", Harry made a mental note to make an effort to try and maximize this previously unnoticed asset of his.

But how would any treatment that he chose affect his previously unappreciated (by him anyways) assets? Would the terrifying treatment plan, that he had no intent on worrying about until which time he felt ready, affect his messy hair? Would the magical treatment make it fall out like that Muggle stuff? Would he become as skinny as a rail? He sure hoped not because then who would find him attractive if he looked sick? He knew that his thoughts were bordering upon extreme vanity, the last thing he wanted to do is sound like Malfoy reincarnate, and he couldn't allow himself to appear thus even in the contours of his own mind. So he pushed those unbidden thoughts out of his mind. He still had time to weigh his options.

It was occurring to him again how important Ron was to him, much like it had at dinnertime with Hermione, and he was lost once more in memories of their first couple of years here together.

He had changed almost as much as Hermione had. He used to be so temperamental, getting under his skin was a piece of cake and it didn't take much to make him fly off the handle. Harry remembered he had been just as desperate as Hermione in first year, except instead of worrying about fitting in and doing well; he was more concerned about proving himself worthy in the wake of his brothers. He wanted nothing more than to be special, to be something more than what he was, something bigger, something better. His hot-headedness made it difficult for him to see things from other people's point of view as well.

Now, however, he was extremely loyal and protective to those he loved, which was easy to see in the small gestures he made like protecting the girls on the sly.

It didn't matter what Harry did or who he was, he knew it wouldn't matter because Ron had grown out of throwing temper tantrums. Now he accepted it and tried his hardest to understand it. And he was so much happier now because he was happy with whom he was and he didn't feel like he had to be his brothers better anymore. He was okay with just being Ron.

Harry felt a surge of affection for his best friends.

"Hey Ron? You asleep yet?"

"No. What's up?"

"I was just thinking…do you still wish you could be like your brothers?" Ron exhaled explosively.

"Whoo, loaded question Harry. Why did you ask that?" Ron turned back over to face Harry with his duvet bunched up under his chin and held in place with his hand under the covers.

"Dunno. I was just thinking. You and Hermione have changed a lot over the years." Harry smiled.

"So have you." Ron's smile had a rather sad quality to it, but Harry's mind repressed it, unwilling to deal with the possible meanings behind it.

"Well?"

"It's a long story."

"Aw, come on! I'm not really tired anyway, you can take all night to explain if you want."

"Urgh, alright. Since you insist." Ron got out from under the covers and climbed onto the bottom of Harry's bed, pulling the curtains around them. Once he was seated comfortably and Harry had sat up too, he began.

"Okay. Well, I guess it all started with Hermione. Well, I guess you were the trigger actually, but Hermione was the driving force. Do you remember that time before the first task in fourth year, when Hermione did really quite bad on one of her tests and was all depressed about it?" Harry nodded.

"Well, when I found out I rubbed her face in it and she got upset about it, especially when she got that letter from her parents saying they expected more from her. So, as you can imagine she wasn't very happy with me and I was really annoyed because I couldn't understand what her problem was, it was just a stupid test in my eyes. I didn't see why she couldn't just be happy, she did perfect in every other test anyway!"

"But then I saw her talking to you about it, crying on your shoulder, you know what I mean, and I got so jealous you wouldn't believe. I couldn't see past the fact that everyone seemed to love you so much, like everyone seemed to love my brothers, including Hermione. It was like I was the annoying third wheel or something."

"I confronted Hermione about it eventually. I accused her of fancying you and the both of you going behind my back and everything. And she got really mad, seriously, she went freaking mental! She was yelling about how I would never understand because I was such a selfish jerk and she said that you and her were so close to each other, instead of me, because you both knew each other inside-out and you had taken the time to get to know each other at every level of friendship. She said I was so wrapped in 'me, me, me' that I never noticed anything about the two of you. This was a very long explosion by the way, if you couldn't already tell." Ron grinned in his laugh-provoking way, which worked, as it usually did, to get an amused smile out of Harry.

"Anyway, yeah, so, she went on saying that if I had known anything about you then I would have known, or at the very least trusted, that you were telling the truth about the Goblet of Fire, instead of showing myself to be the true insensitive prick I was and deserting you at the first opportunity. I was furious with her, and completely in denial. I stopped talking to her for quite a while, I didn't want to believe what she said and stood my ground on the whole issue until you faced that Hungarian Horn Tail during the first task. I hate to admit it but when I saw you coming out of the medical tent that pretty much clenched it for me; I guess it really slammed home just what an insensitive prick I was being. Charlie works with dragons and I've heard plenty a story where he and the other handlers have gotten burned and his mate Rick nearly got roasted alive one day when he got too close to a nesting mother. But back to Hermione…"

"However, she had got me thinking at last. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore and I dug out my families' old pensieve and put the memory of the night your name came out of the goblet into it so I could confirm to myself that I was right. Except I was so completely wrong." Ron seemed to cringe at the memory of himself while Harry hung on every word, fascinated with this part of Ron and Hermione's lives he had never known about until now.

"At the time I had been so blinded by jealousy I felt like I'd been stabbed in the back or something as soon as I heard your name. I never even bothered to stop and think. I didn't look at you or ask you or anything. And once I looked back at the whole incident in the pensieve I finally did look at you and I could see that you were completely shocked. You didn't even move at first. When I approached you outside the medical tent that day." Ron laughed.

"You should have seen yourself Harry, you went green! I seriously thought you were going to keel over!" Harry gave Ron a playful punch on the arm for teasing him, and Ron rubbed it, pretending to look wounded at his cruelty before becoming serious once more and sighing.

"I felt absolutely horrible after that. I spent a lot of time thinking about it and I sort of realized that I had spent so much time feeling wronged by everyone for not liking me as much as they liked everyone else that I had never bothered to actually do anything worth being liked for. I had no idea what to do with myself. So I went and talked to Hermione. Well, I apologized first actually, and asked her to help me figure-out how to fix things. She told me I wasn't the one I needed to apologize to, but she also told me that I just needed to stop worrying so much about myself and my perceived problems and make an effort to actually put myself in other peoples' shoes. I think she said I needed to learn how to feel empathy or something. Then I would understand them and I would actually be giving something back to the relationship instead of just taking all the time. I remember I was dead chuffed actually, she told me I was really funny and the first thing I could do to change things was make up with you and start cheering you up, cos she was useless at it."

"So I went to the first task that day and made up with you as you know and we went from there, but I still felt like I wasn't really any different, you and Hermione were still closer. So I made a point of keeping my eyes open for a chance to prove that I did really care about my friends and family, and finally there was a time where Hermione was really upset because she was really worried about you." Ron deliberately skimmed over this part, though Harry didn't notice his pointed lack of details.

"I noticed she was feeling down and I went and talked to her about it, and I actually listened to her for once, and it was amazing! I'd never felt that…I dunno…needed or important to someone I guess. I think Hermione was surprised about me even noticing let alone caring enough to take the time to talk to her about it and reassure her. But I did and I think that's more or less around the time where I started getting more involved in the lives of the people I considered close to me, and less preoccupied with who my brothers were close with. What need did I have for what they had when I had my own life to live and be happy with?"

"That's basically the story. I'm glad Hermione took the time to try and help me become a better person though. Other people wouldn't have believed in me or had the patience she did. There, happy now?"

"Yeah. I'm just…I can't believe I never noticed any of that happening!"

"Oh, you did. Hermione and I just played it off as a tiny little thing like having a bad day or something whenever you picked up on the tension or me feeling out of sorts. There was no way we were convincing you everything was okay so we just had to tell a few white lies and downplay it a bit."

"Well, why didn't you just tell me?"

"…I don't know." Ron looked thoroughly confused. "I guess…I think it was just something I needed to figure out on my own. Hermione pushed me in the right direction but the rest was up to me. And I'm much happier for having figured it all out. But I'm going to sleep now, that was way too long a story for this time of night." Ron said, a yawn taking control of his mouth before he pulled back the curtains around Harry's bed and climbed into his own. As the pair of boys said their goodnights, both were thinking back on the past.

Harry had been doing that a lot lately. Thinking about his friends. Growth. Development. The process of maturing. It was all something he would miss out on in some way or another.

..:..:..:..

Harry couldn't move.

He couldn't talk either.

He was frozen by the intense grip this latest headache had on him. It was the most painful yet. It struck him suddenly in the middle of potions class, when he had been getting some more armadillo bile from the potions cupboard, and boy did it like to throw its weight around in his head.

The glass bottle he had been carrying fell out of his grasp and smashed on the floor while he grabbed the desk beside him with one hand, his knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip, and used the other to hold his head, his eyes closed. It took every drop of willpower he had to get through the ruthless bout of pain, the tiny squeak of distress escaping his throat acting as the only indication he gave vocally that something was wrong.

People were asking him what was wrong, and Professor Snape now stood beside him, demanding an explanation.

But Harry had no energy to spare in order to reply right now. He focused on breathing deeply instead, his brow creased and his eyes squeezed tightly closed. When the pain didn't fade after the initial explosion however, he couldn't help the desperate whine that escaped his throat. His fingers tightened their grip in response, pulling on his hair slightly, and he hunched his shoulders slightly by tensing them up completely. His body trembled with pain and the effort it took to withstand it.

Then, finally, it was over.

Everyone looked at Draco Malfoy askance while he stood there with his wand in one hand and a handful of Harry's shirt in the other as he lowered him to the ground next to his desk, which also happened to be the desk Harry had been using as support. He had just grabbed Harry's shirt and stupefied him.

He looked back at them all and gave a slight shrug.

"What? It's not like any of you lot were doing anything. I'd rather not spend my potions period watching Potter have a spaz attack, thank you very much. Now, can we please get back to the potion? I think his interruption ruined it." Draco scowled as he stirred his potion.

"Screw you Malfoy! Only you would think of your potion after something like that! If it was you, you'd expect everyone to be falling over themselves with worry!" Hermione snarled, looking more than shaken by Harry's episode.

"That is enough Miss Granger. You can clean up this mess for that little outburst there. And Mr. Malfoy, as you were the one to stun him you can be the one to take him to the hospital wing. I refuse to lug the boy around the castle."

"But Professor - !"

"No arguments, Mr. Malfoy. Go." Snape said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Both of the teenagers scowled at their potions master and set about doing what they were told, though Hermione couldn't resist telling Malfoy that if he dared do anything to Harry he'd be in for it, to which the boy just rolled his eyes and sneered at her.

Draco sighed and bent down, wondering how on earth he was supposed to pick the boy up. Eventually, he placed his hand under Harry's head and lifted him up so that he was in a sitting position with his other arm around his back. Once he'd done this he positioned the arm closest to Harry's head around the back of his neck, so that his head was supported, and then under his arm, pulling him in close to his chest so that Harry's head rested against him. Once he'd done this he used his other arm to scoop under Harry's legs at the knee and lift them up a little so that they were bent in an upside down "V" position.

Then he got stuck. He was in position. But he didn't know how to go from kneeling to standing without dropping Potter.

"Err…Blaise? A hand here please?"

Blaise laughed at him. "I wondered when you would ask."

The boy knelt down on the other side of Harry and placed a hand under Harry's legs along with Draco's, and another around Harry's back.

"Alright, one, two, three!" both boys stood at the same time with Blaise taking some of the weight and steadying Harry so that he didn't fall out of Draco's arms.

Draco began his journey to the hospital wing as he tried not to think about the fact that he was carrying his opponent in his arms, like some kind of simpering prince, carrying his princess off into The-Light-Of-Happily-Ever-After's. It was a concept he and Blaise had come up with during their usual playful banter, with the aim to tease Pansy for actually liking the pure cheesiness that muggle fairy tales churned out. Looking down at the boy in his arms Draco couldn't help but feel curious about what he might see, especially with the opportunity to study Potter without him knowing he was being watched.

It was kind of creepy to see Harry looking so vulnerable, thought Draco. Every time they had an encounter he was nothing but passion and energy, unwavering and strong, even in the face of Draco's most terrible insults.

It was one of the things Draco loved most about fighting with him. He actually presented a challenge. He felt guilty about arguing with other people because it always ended with him winning and the other person upset, it was too easy really.

But when he argued with Harry he could let go and stop thinking about how hurtful anything he might say would be because he knew it would all turn out alright in the end. Harry always bounced back and he never lost his animation. And best of all, he could keep up with Draco for wit and smart-ass comebacks. Most people were too intimidated by him to have their brain functioning enough to think of anything worth saying back to him in the heat of an argument.

It was kind of a relief to be able to do that with someone, because it let Draco throw out every angry and stressed feeling he had. It was a bit ironic really. That he would seek out an argument for the sake of stress relief when arguments and fights were one of the things people found most stressful.

He was almost at the hospital wing by now and looked down at the classmate in his arms. He was surprisingly light; you wouldn't guess his size and weight just looking at him. It was damn near impossible with the hideous excuse for clothes he wore. However, it looked like Potter had gotten a new pair of glasses. It's about ruddy time he chucked those in the bin; they weren't attractive in the least, not that Draco had been looking before. And he was only noticing his opponent's new glasses now because of his sheer proximity to the Gryffindor Seeker. It's not like he was ogling Harry bloody Potter like Pansy liked to imply on a regular basis.

The girls all said it gave him a manly, rugged kind of vibe, which they seemed to find extremely attractive. They liked a guy who could get down and dirty apparently, a guy who had no qualms about getting some hard work done using his hands, and his clothes most definitely suggested that he did.

He could see what they meant if he was going to be completely honest with himself but he had to admit there was a serious downfall to the clothes, and that was the fact that they did nothing for him. Most people had at least one top or pair of trousers or something that showed off one of their best features. But those clothes hid absolutely everything…however the glasses…only enhanced his green eyes.

Draco snorted.

The boy was completely clueless really, he was the boy-who-lived, he had serious potential to be the sweet-heart to every girl in the freaking school, but did he even try and look good? To catch their attention or anything?

Nope.

Idiot.

It wasn't like every girl didn't fancy him already. It was quite disgusting really. Even the Slytherin girls wished on some level that they were one of those important to him. He was just that nice to everyone. It was easy to see that he made you feel special if he deemed you worthy of giving you the time of day.

Well, maybe not so much anymore. For the last couple of years it was like Potter had faded entirely. Draco remembered he had been insanely touchy-feely with his friends. He was constantly hugging that Granger girl, and even the guys had gotten used to Harry flinging an arm around their shoulders and giving them a big kiss on the head while he joked around. Not the soft, sweet kind he would give all the girls, more like the kind of kiss that would go along with a cheesy grin before he ran off to do something crazy. And that was a fairly common occurrence. He was always doing something amusing, and he was the center of attention a lot of the time.

Recently however he had been keeping a bit of a low profile. His vibrancy and enthusiasm for life had dimmed, he stopped showering affection on anyone and everyone he liked, he talked less and less, and his laughs and smiles weren't the same either.

Draco remembered when he used to smile widely and easily, how when he laughed he did it with everything he had, letting go completely in the expression of his happiness and amusement.

Draco tried to pinpoint when Harry's spirited nature had begun to diminish. It had been a couple of years ago he thought. Around the time Cedric Diggory had died.

What the hell was up with him anyway? It had been ages since Harry had done much except go through the motions of life. Or, act normal at least. Anyone else observing him wouldn't see any difference, thinking he was acting just as any normal person would, but those who knew him would know that Harry was normally on a whole other level of living compared to others in reality. Harry acting like any other normal person was the equivalent to Harry on a downer. And now there was something wrong with him.

This recent incident in potions was probably connected to that time Pomfrey came to potions, Draco would bet on it. He had actually forgotten that incident, but it came back to him now.

He deposited Harry on the bed and met Pomfrey's eyes as she crossed the room to the bed he was standing at.

"I'm not sure what happened, he just dropped what he was holding and held his head. He wasn't responding and whatever was wrong didn't seem to be getting better so I stupefied him."

Poppy nodded and brushed Harry's hair out of his face.

"Thank you for bringing him Mr. Malfoy, you can go."

"Right. Bye." Draco tried to linger as long as possible so that he could see what Poppy did to treat Harry, if she used a potion he recognized maybe he could figure out what was wrong with him. But Poppy just made Harry comfortable and left him to sleep.

Draco left, disappointed that he couldn't figure out this new mystery of what was wrong with Potter.

..:..

Later that evening, Hermione and Ron sat at a table in the Gryffindor common room quietly discussing their friend. What happened in potions baffled Hermione, because Ron had reassured her that the other night when Harry had come into the common room wearing some snazzy new glasses, that Harry had said that they would help his migraines in tandem with the potions that he was supposed to procure from the hospital wing. No matter how much Harry and Ron tried to reassure her, Hermione knew more about the human body and the way that it worked than them. Her parent's medical background saw to that. Many people in the muggle world had turned their noses up when she had said something similar to them, thinking that if you were a dentist that you didn't have to go through the same pre-med school like a "real doctor", but what they didn't know was that her mum Emma Granger had minored in nursing because she hadn't yet made up her mind which route she wanted to take: dentistry or nursing. So yes she did indeed know what she was talking about thank you very much. The headaches seemed to be more to her than his Voldemort induced visions, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Ron brought her out of her musings by opening his Defense textbook with a loud thump. It was plainly obvious that he wanted homework help, so why couldn't he just ask? BOYS!

"I'm stuck on this last bit of my essay for Professor Jacobs. I can't find a third aquatic magical creature who is known for its viciousness against humans and other species."

"Think about it Ron" admonished Hermione. She loved Ron dearly, but she wasn't willing to give up her academic integrity by allowing him to copy hers unless he was ill, since he wasn't, she was going to make him figure it out with her help. "You recall the second task of the Triwizard Tournament and Fleur's near disqualification when she failed to retrieve her hostage before the time limit?"

"Err, yeah. No bloke in his right mind could've missed that pretty little thing," replied Ron thickly.

Hermione huffed. "Well then, I'll leave it to you to figure out such a simple hint and to contemplate that 'pretty little thing'. Her sheer beauty will earn you an 'o' on your essay I'm sure," said Hermione the sarcasm dripping from her tone. But this went right over Ron's head.

"Come on 'Mione' can't you just tell me?"

"Not if you're too busy reminiscing about how Fleur looked when she came out of the lake dripping wet with scratches and bruises covering her head-to-toe from the very creatures that I'm trying to get you to name," said Hermione hands on hips.

"C'mon Hermione. You've helped Harry and I loads of times."

"I'll give you a hint, they're also refered to as water demons but don't expect me to get you out of a tight spot again, especially, when you're thinking of another woman when I do so, and just because I did in the past doesn't make it right. I have asperations to become Headgirl you know."

Ron banged his head on the table in frustration.

Then he had an eureka moment and he practically shouted, "Grindylows! How could I've missed that?"

"Honestly Ron, I don't know. But you finally got it."

"If Professor Jacobs wasn't such a ruddy poor Professor then I wouldn't have had to ask anyone."

"O really now? Professor Lupin already covered water demons in our fourth year. Were you taking a kip or something?"

"Nah, I just forgot about them, we went over so many magical creatures that year that's all."

Hermione laughed at Rons atypical behavior. He never changed. "Sure you weren't…you remember that. But I agree with you, he's the second worst Defense Professor we've had, so do you want to see if we can persuade Harry to start up the DA again?"

"Sure, as long as it doesn't interfere with his Quidditch practices."

"Honestly, Quidditch isn't the most important thing in the world. However, being able to defend yourself against the death eaters, dark creatures, and Voldemort is paramount to our survival. In comparison, Quidditch is a blip on Harry's radar, and I have a feeling that he would choose the right priority if it came down to it, unlike some people I know," stated Hermione pointedly.

In a rare show of gratitude, Ron thanked Hermione profusely for her help on his essay.

Changing the topic of their conversation a bit, Hermione said, "I do concur with you and the rest of the students about Professor Jacobs's teaching style. We already covered dark creatures in our third year. We're sixth years for crying out loud."

"Yeah, I never dreamed that we could get saddled with a Professor that almost matches the sheer incompetency of Umbitch."

Hermione was unable to hold in the chuckle that burst from her lips. And with that, Ron and Hermione put their slight disagreement behind them.

..:..

There was no way Harry could deny it now. Whether he liked it or not, whether he was ready for it or not, death was charging at him at a merciless pace, and there was nothing he could do about it. In two years he would be gone from this world, his chance at life expired, and could he truly say he was happy with that? Would it be worth it to have a few more miserable years fighting for his life on a daily basis, having poison literally running through his vanes; after all, from what he understood from Poppy, the other day, the treatment for wizards with cancer was far more intensive than the muggle method and wasn't a guarantee. Apparently, it would've been better if he was less magically powerful, because if his magic hadn't masked his symptoms for so long, he'd have better odds, because they could've caught it earlier. His magic had allowed the tumor to grow to an impressive size, though how impressive only muggle scans could reveal. Did he want quantity of life over quality of life? Decisions. It was an insurmountable decision, one that he wasn't sure he could make on his own volition, but then again, his whole life thus far had been comprised of moments of bliss in a world of turmoil.

He felt cheated that he might not be a part of his friends' lives anymore, but he was just realizing that his death would mean the end of his own chance at life. He was so proud of the people they were becoming, but where was his own growth and development?

Harry lay on his stomach along the Gryffindor couch, staring at one of his schoolbooks but getting no reading done.

After spending so long remembering everyone else as they used to be and feeling pleased for them at how far they had come since then, he couldn't help but take a trip down his own memory lane. What he found left him feeling utterly confused as the weight of his realization settled around him.

While his friends had grown with the life experience they gained, all he could see for himself was decay. He had spent the past two years floating through life as though things would never change while everyone around him grew up.

He could remember when he was in primary school, strumming away happily on a school guitar and making up songs to pass the break and lunch hour away. He'd been determined to learn how to play the instruments, and passionate about making music, because it was something that brought a lonely boy some joy into the terrifying world around him.

He was quite good at music in school actually. Art too, but he hadn't gotten quite the same buzz out of it in comparison to his music. The best thing about it was that the Dursleys couldn't care less about the creative subjects, so he was allowed to excel at them.

He smiled sadly as he remembered practicing as much as he could every day at school. His determination had paid off eventually when he could play the guitar, piano and drums extremely well and knew the basics of a number of other instruments. His best instrument of all, however, was his voice.

When was the last time he had sat down at a piano, or wrote a song? Or, for that matter, and most importantly, when was the last time he felt that simple, pure happiness?

If he could feel like that at a time when he had no one to turn to, why couldn't he feel like that now? Maybe he had grown up in a manner of speaking, maybe he had grown too old and understood too much to ever feel like that again.

But if that were true, why was it he still felt so stunted? It was like he was trapped on all sides so that any kind of emotional growth and development was prevented.

He couldn't even remember when he had started feeling like this, he just knew it had been that way for a long time and he never would have acknowledged it if it weren't for the cancer. And he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing yet.

..:..:..:..

Three weeks had gone by since Poppy had discovered Harry's tumor and she believed it was finally beginning to sink in. She'd had enough time to think Harry's situation through, and there were some things she knew she had to deal with, including his reaction to the horrible news.

But that would come later.

First she needed to have a difficult conversation with Severus, which was why she was now standing in the doorway of his personal potions lab. He shot her a glance of acknowledgement, before turning back to the plant he was currently picking leaves from and eyeing the simmering potion on his desk every few seconds.

"I haven't yet finished that Pepper-Up potion, it still needs to stand a little longer. I will bring it to you tomorrow."

"That's not why I'm here. I-"

"In that case I'll get started on the burn salve once I'm finished this, I thought you'd be running low by now."

"Severus, I'm not here about potions. Well, not for the hospital wing anyway. I need to speak with you."

His hand slowed in its journey from the stirring rod to the next ingredient. He turned to look at her for a few seconds and seemed to find whatever it was he was searching for.

"I won't be long in bringing this to a stage where it can be left to sit. If you find yourself a seat in my office, I can be with you fairly soon."

Poppy gave him a small smile, thankful he was a perceptive enough man that she didn't have to spell out that the topic of conversation she had intended was one she considered important. Urgent even.

It wasn't long before he appeared on the threshold between lab and office, wiping his hands on a cloth and making his way around his desk to take a seat. Once he was settled and sufficiently potions-ingredient free, he indicated he was listening and that Poppy should begin her explanation of what she wanted of him.

"I was wondering if you could come up with any possibilities for a potion capable of breaking, or at least bending, the Healers Oath?"

The man raised an eyebrow, causing Poppy to blush as she realized how this would probably look.

"And why would you feel the need to do that?"

"I can't tell you without breaking it first."

"So it's the confidentiality component you wish to break then." Severus frowned. "As I'm sure you are aware, Poppy, The Healer's Oath exists for a reason. I can't think of a good reason you might have for wanting to be free of it."

Poppy clasped her hands in front of her in her lap in an effort to remain calm when it seemed as though Severus did not seem particularly willing to help her.

"Of course they exist for a reason. It is for that specific reason that I am interested in the possibility of breaking it in the first place! My duty as a healer, and as someone who took that oath more seriously than I would my marriage vows, is to see to it that anyone under my care does not come to any unnecessary harm if it is within my power to prevent it. But that vow is stopping me from doing so! By breaking it, I would really be ensuring the purpose for it was recognized and respected!"

"While that is undoubtedly the most animated I have ever seen you in putting your point across, I can't help but be wary here Poppy. If there is a problem with one of the students that worries you, why not just go to their parents, or alternatively, should the parents be the problem, the Oath's Exception? If it is a student with problems involving abusive parents then Dumbledore will no doubt be the Oath's choice of Exception as he is the most responsible for their care beyond their guardians at this time, what need do you have to break healer-patient confidentiality beyond that? You know as well as I do that it is highly unethical to do what you are asking of me. Especially considering that you can't, apparently, give me your reasons for doing so."

"Then I guess you will have to make the decision based on nothing more than what you know of me and what reasons you believe I would and wouldn't do this for."

Severus sighed and placed his chin in his hands with his elbows on the desk, a far-away look coming over him as he contemplated this predicament. After a rather long wait, he eventually seemed to make up his mind, giving Poppy a stern look as he delivered his verdict.

"Consider yourself lucky that I think of you as a more than trustworthy woman. I will begin work immediately. I have a few theories beginning to form already."

Poppy seemed to sag in her chair with the release of tension in her muscles at his decision.

"Thank you Severus, I promise you won't regret this. It's you I wish to speak to about the matter with actually, I feel you could be a great help in the given situation." Severus looked slightly surprised.

"Oh. Well, I will inform you as soon as I think I have a working formula. Goodbye." replied Severus as the pair stood from their seats.

Poppy smiled a wide, relieved grin.

"Thanks again. You've done the right thing here." she said, before leaving the potions master to his complicated formulas and ingredient lists, closing the door softly behind her.

Now all she had to do was deal with Harry.

She would understand if Harry had been profoundly upset at the news of his cancer, but she had the sneaking suspicion that he was in denial. Three weeks was enough time for the reality of his situation to hit home, so shouldn't he have made some kind of reaction by now? The only thing slightly different she could make out was that he spent a lot more time just sitting and observing those around him, looking contemplative, but not necessarily definitely sad or definitely happy. As far as she could tell her revelation hadn't put him up or down overall.

That worried her.

..:..:..:..

Harry chewed his lip, feeling utterly conflicted staring at the hospital wing doors.

Should he go in, or should he leave?

He had done a lot of thinking lately, but despite his struggles he hadn't managed to figure anything out. Instead it seemed like all he had managed to do was trigger a chain of other thoughts and realizations in a domino-like effect, which left him completely confused and unsure.

He felt like he needed to run his thoughts by someone else. He really wanted to talk to Poppy, but he didn't want to seem like some kind of wishy-washy drama-queen that got all emotional over something completely insignificant just for attention, whether it was consciously or subconsciously. What if she just got annoyed at him for complaining and moaning at her all the time when, in reality, other people had it much worse than him?

And besides, what obligation did she have to listen to him? He knew that they were closer than the other students she healed, but that didn't change the fact that she was just a healer. It wasn't her job to act as an agony aunt for him. He really should be talking to his friends about this. Except he couldn't because there was no way he was telling them, they would be too upset.

But still, that didn't mean he could pile it all on Poppy, it simply wasn't fair. He should just leave; it was stupid to come in the first place really. He needed to learn to deal with things himself.

Harry turned away from the doors in front of him and took two steps, but was halted as he made his third by the sound of the door behind him clicking as it was opened. He whirled round to find Poppy blinking at him in surprise.

Poppy had been trying to decide how she could go about dealing with Harry's attitude to his illness and bustling about the every-day odd jobs to be found in a hospital wing when she had heard footsteps outside the hospital wing door. She had continued changing the bedclothes on the last bed for a further minute, however, without hearing them continue on past the door. Unable to quell the feeling of curiosity, she went to investigate.

When she opened the door she was rather surprised, but happy, to see Harry turnaround from beginning to walk back the way he must have come. When she could see his face clearly however she saw the fragile look in his eyes that spoke of uncertainty. She gave him a pointedly happy grin.

"Oh it's you Harry! I thought I heard someone out here, is there something I can help with?"

"Em, nah, its fine, I was just…I mean…I didn't…I was just going to…" Harry was fidgeting awkwardly in place, not knowing what to give as an excuse for being there, to which Poppy's smile softened.

"Would you like to come help me with restocking the potions shelves? I'm afraid I have an awful lot to do, I could use a hand." Harry finally relaxed a little and gave a small smile to the healer, seeing she wasn't suspicious or annoyed at finding him there. Instead she seemed rather cheerful at getting the opportunity to ask him if he wanted to help her in the hospital wing.

"Sure, I'd love to. I'm a bit bored anyway, I guess."

Poppy stepped back from the door so that her outstretched arm held the door open, allowing Harry to duck inside through the space between her body and the door.

"Just over here Harry. I need to bottle a lot of the potions first so why don't you do that and then I can label the bottles as we go along."

Harry stepped up to the row of cauldrons containing differently colored potions, some of which had the consistency of water while others were more like sludge. There were even some that looked more like colorful creams than potions. Poppy directed him to the cauldron on the end full of a smooth, creamy pink liquid similar to how a strawberry smoothie would look, except without the seeds.

"What's this for?" Harry asked, picking up the ladle and swirling the contents around to get a better feel for the texture.

"Pepper-Up potion. This is my last cauldron actually; Severus is making more for me."

"Does he make all of the potions for the hospital wing?"

"Yes, we're very lucky for it too. Most of you children take it for granted but you just wouldn't get the same standard anywhere else. Few people are willing to put in the time and effort it takes to perfect each potion to the fullest extent of its potential effects like he does."

"Hey! I am not a kid!" Harry exclaimed and wrinkled his nose in distaste at the implication that he was still a child, gaining a giggle from Poppy at his stereotypical, teenage response.

Harry held back his usual derogatory reply regarding Severus though. It had become habit for him to dismiss any of the potions master's good qualities, but who was he to deny the man's innate talent and passion for potions, really? He may be a judgmental and bitter old man, but you couldn't really avoid the fact that he had a knack for developing seemingly impossible to invent potions. He could probably do anything if he set his mind to it.

He had invented the Wolfsbane potion, for example.

And so, maybe he could create a cure for cancer…instead of a regimen of highly toxic potions that would more than likely just put the cancer into remission instead of cure the brain tumor perminanantly.

If people like him could work so hard just to make other peoples' lives that little bit easier, or even to save lives entirely, then Harry felt like he really had no right to pass judgment that they had nothing about them that was worth the effort of getting to know.

Harry had never had reason to consider it before now, but it was people like Severus who could end up saving his life. There was just no way he could continue to walk around thinking that things were as simple as "He's mean and evil", and it was for this reason his professor would have his respect. He still didn't like Snape, unkind as he was. But Harry had one of life's lessons staring him in the face, and he wasn't one to ignore it. So he would take it on board, and stop seeing things in the clear cut shades of black and white. He would no longer assume he knew anything about people until he had at least made an effort to understand.

Wasn't it one of the things he himself hated most about being famous? That people took one look and thought they knew everything? That they could write a book telling his life story and everything he had ever felt?

Poppy saw the intense quality in Harry's gaze and made an effort to snap him out of it.

"Right then, we'll start at this end and work our way along then shall we?"

"Sure." Harry replied, blinking away his train of thought and picking up the ladle to pour some of the potion into one of the empty bottles, which were stored in boxes under the table. Poppy stood next to him, waiting to label the potion when Harry handed it to her for going onto the shelf, and began their usual form of casual banter and easy conversation, though there was a while which wasn't so easy when they talked over Harry's newfound thoughts and opinions on the potions master.

..:..:..:..

Later that evening Harry collapsed with no amount of grace onto the nearest hospital bed. He had been glad for the opportunity to spend some time with Poppy again. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed how easy he found it to relax around her. She never seemed too demanding of him and he knew he didn't have to worry about saying something and have her think it was stupid.

Harry sighed and sat up on the edge of the bed at the reminder of why he had been here in the first place, and how he'd hesitated to walk through the door in his uncertainty.

He should have had more faith in her.

Poppy finished cleaning up their mess and came and sat down beside him.

"What's bothering you Harry? You know you can talk to me about anything." Poppy placed her arm around Harry's shoulders and pulled him in closer to her so that his head rested on her shoulder. Harry bit his lip.

"I think…" Harry began, unsure. "I think that I've been depressed for so long that it's like I've forgotten how it feels to be really happy or even normal anymore. There are times that I feel a moment of amusement something, like when someone makes a joke and I find it funny and laugh, but it always fades quickly. Y'know? I never just feel generally content, or happy, or at peace like everyone else. It's like that's their default but my default is to feel like crap and like I really can't be bothered with anything anymore. But it wasn't always like that. I used to be like them. And now…I might never get the chance to find myself again."

Poppy moved back a little and pulled Harry down so that his head lay in her lap and cast a warning spell on the hospital wing doors. Then she began running her fingers through Harry's hair in a comforting gesture while she thought on what Harry had said.

Harry meanwhile could feel himself getting more and more upset. He didn't really understand it himself, but for some reason he couldn't identify, he always felt fine until he had to talk about something to someone, and now he had told Poppy and she was acting all reassuring and comforting. It was almost as though he subconsciously thought that if he didn't talk about it then no one could react sympathetically, and if no one did that then he could pretend to himself that it really wasn't a big deal and he was being ridiculous. Then the problem didn't seem so bad anymore.

But he had told Poppy, and now the emotion came.

The first tear landed on Poppy's skirt as Harry's face crumpled up in an effort to keep them at bay, his fingers held onto Poppy's skirt at the knee.

Poppy rubbed Harry's arm and made soft reassuring noises, telling Harry just to let it out. It was far healthier than to try and bottle it up and she would just worry if he did.

With her coaxing, Harry let the tears run and the sobs tore through him, his grasp on her skirt death-like in its strength.

When the tears no longer flowed and Harry's body more shivered than heaved Poppy spoke once more.

"I can see you haven't been very happy Harry, and I know the cancer has scared you into realizing that you're missing something you don't want to die without. But that doesn't mean it is unattainable. It simply means that you haven't been looking for it until now. Do you understand?" Poppy looked down at the distressed boy on her lap, "Now you can go out there and do what you have to do, find what you need to find, and feel what you need to feel. Don't think of death as a reason you can't do many things. Make it a reason you will do them, instead of letting it bring you down. You have time left yet, spend it well and I believe you will find what it is that you speak of. Remember that as long as you've got something to live for, and you stay positive, nothing is impossible."

There was a pause where Harry considered her words.

"I guess…it's all about choices, isn't it? Dumbledore said something like that to me once. He said that it's our choices that make us who we are. So, I just have to make the choice between being a victim, and twisting this to make it positive, to become stronger, right?"

Poppy smiled.

"That's a very good way of looking at it Harry. And I think it's the key to you solving your problem."

"Well…we'll find out soon enough then I suppose…"

"And that reminds me," said Poppy trying to keep her voice sounding upbeat. "Have you given any thought to what I said last time? I know that the mere possibility of undergoing something that will make you feel wretched before you get better is frightening, but it's really for the best for you to make your decision sooner rather than later."

"Yeah Poppy, I know, but once I decide there's no going back is their? And the wizarding world is depending on me to defeat Voldemort," said Harry, happy to see that Poppy didn't shudder at the name as most of the wizarding world did upon hearing the name, which was stupid really. Merlin, it was just a bloody name. It isn't like Voldemort is going to suddenly appear in front of you like a jack-in-the-box and AK you on the spot for doing so. Nor did he have supersonic hearing that would enable him to hear it if his name was spoken and Harry was fed up with people acting like the name was some sort of Egyptian curse that would become active instantaneously by doing so. The wizarding world really was made up of a bunch of sheeple with the exception of a few intelligent people. Why he wished to save them he didn't know at times, however, the innocent children didn't deserve to die just because Harry cared more about his own health and well-being. He had made up his mind. "I'll agree to undergo those tests you spoke of the moment that it becomes apparent that I need to start treatment. I promise you that the next episode I have will be the last. If it happens sooner rather than later, I'll grant you permission to contact that person, but not until then."

'Would it be too late when Harry did decide?' thought Poppy. She was glad that she had asked Severus to make that potion, because she feared that Harry's decision would come too late for them to do anything for him.

..:..

A/N: This fic will share some components of cannon, like Dumbledore's mysterious absences. In cannon, his friends didn't believe him about Malfoy. Obviously Malfoy isn't the one who's scheming, but is someone else? The horcruxes will play a part in this one, but I can't stand the idea of the deathly hallows, so they won't factor into my fic, and Harry won't kill himself as a martyr as she had him do. The final battle will turn out differently and Harry will grow a backbone in this one :P

In addition, Harry's feeling a bit down in this chapter, but finding out that you have a form of cancer that could very well kill you causes one to grieve very much like if someone that was close to them died. Since I aim to make this as medically realistic as possible, this will be a theme in another chapter, but after that, he'll come to terms with his lot in life as we all must to proceed with our daily lives.

"on the sly" basically just means sneakily lol.

Chocolate chip cookies to everyone who reviews. BTW Good news guys, you've all noticed that I ceased posting for three weeks, there's a reason I promise. You see, on July 2nd, I flew to NJ to "the Seeing Eye" to undergo training to get a Seeing Eye dog. Yesterday, Faith and I flew home. She's a really cute year and a half old dog. She does a fantastic job at aiding me in giving my life to the fullest as independently as I can. It's ironic that the only thing that will really help Harry beat this is complete faith that he'll recover and that I've got to have faith in Faith to be a successful guide dog traveler. Lol Thanks for taking the time to read. And if you leave three reviews or more on this chapter, I'll update tomorrow or the next day as a reward for your time.

The next chapter will start out with Draco when he returns from classes on the day of their potions lesson when Draco carried him to the hospital wing. Obviously, this chapter was written some time ago. Remember those in NJ who survived Sandy and are moving on with their lives.


	3. Chapter 3: Exposure of Betrayal

Diagnosis

Disclaimer: If I owned JKR s characters then they d have gotten up to far more fun than she ever allowed them to :P

A/N: I know that I promised you I d have this chapter up yesterday, but I had to spend the day reassuring my very needy boyfriend that he was still important to me even though I have my little companion Faith here by my side as I write this. It s rather ridiculous how jealous he is. But anyhow, here s the chapter. Hope you like, and cinnamon buns to everyone who reviews this chapter :P They re my favorite dessert and you lot are my favorite bunch of reviewers. Thank you loads to everyone who reviewed, I hope the replies were to your satisfaction :D *brings a batch of gooey chocolate bisckets out of the oven and hands them to all who reviewed the previous chapter* I read each and every review that s submitted and appreciate them all the same, whether they re chalked full of constructive criticism or are overabundant with praise.

For warnings for this story: see first chapter.

Chapter 3 Exposure of Betrayal.

Draco stepped into his common room at the end of the day and was immediately met with the kind of knowing looks that made it essential he should find out what exactly it was they thought they had on him.

As soon as possible.

He eyed his friends with a suspicious look.

"What?" He drew the word out, making his doubt clear, his eyes still narrowed. Blaise Zabini's eyes twinkled with a hidden laughter as he replied casually.

"Oh, nothing really. I was just telling the guys that you carried Potter to the hospital wing during potions."

Draco knew that Blaise was dangling the source of their amusement right in front of his eyes, yet he couldn't see it.

" so? Snape made me " Pansy was the next one to speak, through her smile.

"Oh you poor baby, did you lose your wand? Do you need me to levitate anything for you perhaps?"

Finally it clicked.

"Oh my God! I completely forgot about my wand!" Blaise, Pansy, and Millicent all burst out laughing, as Draco finally understood what they were getting at.

"Don't pretend Draco, we understand."

"What the hell, Millie? I genuinely just forgot about my wand! Really oh my God this is so embarrassing!"

"It's okay hun, we know you're not getting any. Who can blame you for wanting to carry Potter like a muggle fire-fighter? You can admit it and we'll be totally okay with it. We know the truth, there's no use trying to hide it from us! He's your perfect match!" Pansy sniggered as the rest of the group enjoyed a bout of hysterics at her teasing. Draco groaned and plopped himself down into the space left on the couch.

"Oh shut UP about that already, I can't believe you're all still banging on about it! That stupid quiz is nonsense, it just spits out any random name!"

"Hey! My quiz is NOT nonsense thank you very much! I'll have you know it calculates who your best match is based on how you answered the questions. Even YOU admitted that logically Potter is the best choice based on your answers. What happened to being able to look at things objectively, huh?"

"That was before I knew you'd all make it some kind of completely un-funny joke that you absolutely refuse to let go of. Seriously, you're like a starving rabid dog chewing on a piece of meat the way you cling to it."

"Aw, come on Draco, even you have to admit it's provided something a little less boring and monotonous to do here for once. Potter-spying is fun! And just think, we never would have noticed HALF the stuff we have if we hadn't started that little joke just to annoy you." Blaise joined in.

"It was hardly a joke! You started stalking the boy just to point out all of the things I would love in a boyfriend that he had or was! You know what? Maybe you're gay as well, Blaise. Maybe all of you fancy him. I bet that's where this obsession has come from." Draco nodded conclusively, as though this would make it so.

"Nah, he's just interesting. He may be a closed-minded, prejudiced little prick as well, but I'll give him that at least. Think about it, whenever he's been brought up as a topic of conversation, have we ever gotten bored of it? Was it ever stopped or finished simply because we ran out of things to say? No. Think objectively Draco, and with an objective viewpoint for once!"

"Okay, okay. I concede defeat! Potter is supremely interesting and would be the perfect guy, which is why I go along with your stupid Potter-themed insanities, if it weren't for the massively huge fact that you are all ignoring that he hates Slytherins and thinks we're all evil! For no reason! He's just as bad as every other discriminatory person who dismisses us without a second thought, and the fact that you lot are even entertaining the thought that anyone outside of slytherin could understand or accept us is absurd."

"Urgh, mood killer. Sometimes it's nice to pretend that we're part of their world too you know. Then maybe our options would be a little less limited." Millie glanced at the people around the room. "I feel sorry for you Draco. No wonder you don't get any action with this lot as your choices. And that's assuming everyone else is gay too!" Pansy giggled at her friends joke.

"Keep it down would you! You'd think you were trying to broadcast my sexuality to everyone here!" Draco hissed.

Pansy sighed and sat down, everyone much calmer with Draco's harsh words and tone. Millicent was the first to break the silence.

"Do you fancy anyone yet? There must be someone by now!"

"No. There's honestly no one that's really caught my interest."

"I think your standards are way too high. Especially considering your sexuality is in the minority." Blaise chipped in.

"Maybe oy, why didn't you point out to me I could levitate Potter when I was messing about trying to lift him?"

"Same reason as everyone else probably."

"And that was what exactly?"

"It was way too much fun watching you struggle, knowing that the great, wizarding pureblood Malfoy forgot his wand like some kind of muggle-born, to tell you the truth." Blaise's grin did nothing but annoy Draco, who just blinked at him before rising out of the chair and making his way down the corridor to the boys dorms.

"I have homework to do."

Harry scowled resentfully at his potions textbook. He tried to understand, really, he did, but how on earth could a drop of urine from a fire salamander have one effect on a tiny volume of potion, and the exact same effect on a huge volume of potion, within the exact same time limit? Shouldn't one drop have less effect or take longer to get an effect at all on a larger volume of potion in comparison to a smaller volume of potion?

Harry just felt like crying with frustration at this point. He hated having to struggle so hard in his potions class. He knew he wasn't stupid, really, he could do this, but for some reason potions just eluded him. He tried so hard and never seemed to get anywhere. He didn't mind not doing very well in his other classes, because he knew he could be a million times better at them if he really wanted to. That is, if he actually worked hard at it, though he'd never really done so what with other things seeming much more important to him in life. Like surviving the annual dramas that seemed to bloom around him in surprisingly intense bursts.

Before Harry could get to the stage where he was pulling out his hair trying to write an essay about something that was complete nonsense to him, he was, thankfully, distracted by the opening of the portrait hole briefly as he turned to see who it was stepping into the common room.

Ginny was the one who strode through the hole and walked briskly up the stairs to her dormitory, making no eye contact with Harry and offering no greetings to her brother or her friends.

Something must be up.

"Hey guys, I'm going to go speak to Ginny for a while, I need a break for a bit I think."

"'Kay, make sure you do finish that essay though Harry."

"Don't worry 'Mione, I will."

"Are you going up to her dorm?"

"Yep."

"Show off." Ron rolled his eyes jokingly as Harry laughed.

"Just because you can't make it without falling " Harry made the rather childish gesture of sticking his tongue out at Ron, though he neglected the chant of "Naaaah, naaaah, nah, naaaah, naaaah."

Harry climbed out of his seat and made his way over to the stairs up to the girls' dorm as his friends had a bit of a chuckle at his antics and went back to their homework. He was the only boy capable of getting into the girls dorms as he was the only one with the strength and endurance to manage the climb up the staircase. There had been a competition of sorts amongst the boys one evening which had involved all of them trying to get up to the dorms and failing miserably as their strength failed them and they fell onto the stairs, activating the spell to turn them into a slide. There had been much hilarity as I'm sure you can imagine, especially amongst the spectator girls, though there was plenty of cheering when Harry managed what had seemed impossible.

When Harry reached the bottom of the stairs he placed both hands high up on the walls on either side of him at the entrance and jumped up, placing each of his feet on the walls on as well, in order to support his weight. He now had a hand and a foot on each wall. He then placed all of his weight onto his arms and swung his legs further forward on the wall. When he had them securely in place against the walls he then placed most of his weight back on his legs to hold him up off of the floor as he shimmied his hands forward so that his body was straight up and down once more instead of his upper half angled backwards. He repeated this until he had climbed his way up the staircase by distributing his weight between the two walls on either side of the stairs to keep him off of the floor, and dropped down in front of Ginny's dormitory.

Harry knocked on Ginny's door to let her know he was coming in and opened it quietly and slowly so she would have time to duck for cover if she was getting changed. What he found when he stepped inside was Ginny lying on her stomach on her bed, her head buried in a pillow as she cried, causing his brow to crease in concern. He made his way across to the bed, climbing on it next to her and stroked up and down her back with his hand in a gesture of comfort.

"What's up Gin? If you tell me I'll make sure and do everything I can to fix it, I promise. Come on, you can talk to me." He coaxed until Ginny rolled onto her side so that she was facing him, prompting Harry to lie down beside her, wipe away her tears and stroke her hair.

"Harry?" she seemed surprised.

"In the flesh." Harry smiled at her.

Ginny said nothing more, but lunged into Harry's inviting arms and broke down into fresh sobs as she clung to him tightly, just basking in his caring attention. It had been so long since Harry had begun to drift away from his friends, it felt like coming home again to have him come to her to look after her. She had missed the comfort he offered.

When she had once more begun to calm down Harry asked what was wrong again, using the same soft tones he always used when concerned about someone.

"Urgh. It's stupid really."

"Of course it's not stupid, it has you upset doesn't it?"

"It's just Michael. I mean, I know he's just being a prick and I should ignore him, and I do most of the time, but, you know, sometimes it's just hard to ignore some of the things he says."

"He still hasn't backed off?" Harry questioned incredulously.

"Not really. Why, should he have backed off by now?" Ginny's tone was colored with confusion.

"Oh, um, I guess I didn't expect him to still be at it after all this time Ginny, I'm really sorry." Ginny gave him a surprised look at the sincere, sad quality to his voice.

"What on earth for? You've done nothing wrong."

"I know, but that's the point really. I should have done something about Michael before now. I'm sorry that I haven't really been there for you for so long. It's been ages since we really talked about anything really deep or important. It's been ages since we did anything really fun as well actually, hasn t it?"

"Well you've had a lot going on Harry. I understand, really, I do. It's not your fault at all, I don't blame you for anything."

"That shouldn't matter though. I promise I'll be there for you for anything Ginny from now on, seriously, don't hesitate to come to me, okay? I'll always have time for you. And if I don't, I'll make time. Leave this Corner guy to me too, I'll deal with it, so don't you worry anymore, 'kay? Can you do that for me?" Ginny grinned at him.

"Gladly." and she was glad, that she could pass the issue on to Harry to take care of, because she knew he would deal with everything and she wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.

The next day, after a relatively uneventful combination of meals and classes, Harry dumped his bag onto the common room couch and turned around, about to head off to the hospital wing. His head had been aching the past couple of hours and he was due to get the pain potions Poppy was supposed to be getting in for him today. Hopefully they would help with the headache.

"Harry? Where are you going?"

"Pomfrey has those migraine potions for me in today, I was just going to go get them."

"Oh right. Oh! That reminds me! After that time in potions with the vision you got from Voldemort I went to the library and got some books for you, hang on!" Hermione rummaged around in her bag for a few seconds and finally produced three books with varying titles, each conveying the same concept: Occlumency. Hermione bit her lip nervously as she held them out: trying to keep her skepticism about the true nature of Harry s headaches off her face as to not worry her friend any more than he clearly already was.

"I know that things didn't go well with you and Snape and that Dumbledore can't teach you, but I figured you could at least try and learn it on your own, you never know after all, I bet every little bit helps. If it helps stop the visions then that would be great, obviously, though I'd totally understand if you didn't really want to learn it, but still " Harry cut off her nervous rambling in her uncertainty of how her offering of an attempted solution would be received. During her explanation her hands had slowly brought the books back into her body, clearly showing she thought he wouldn't want them.

"Thanks 'Mione, that was really thoughtful. I'll try and get started as soon as possible." Harry smiled at his friend and gave her a big bear-hug, ignoring the slightly shocked look on her face. His friends seemed to be adopting that look a lot lately. However, he wasn t fudging the truth when he said he d study the books, because whilst he knew that visions from Voldemort weren't the current cause of his migraines, they probably would be at some point this year. The adults who thought that they dictated every little part of his life kept insisting that he learn Occlumency and on this he agreed wholeheartedly.

"Oh. Well, that's great Harry! Just ask me if you're confused about anything, obviously I'm no expert but I might be able to help out in some way, you never know." She wasn t just referring to Occlumency; he was her first friend and she would stick by him come what may. Harry nodded and placed the books into his bag for safe-keeping until he came back from the hospital wing to put them in his trunk.

"See you guys later."

"Bye Harry," said Ron and Hermione in conjunction as Harry waved and walked out of the portrait hole.

Harry s journey to the hospital wing went by in uninterrupted silence until a skinny third year Ravenclaw bloke walked up to him and grabbed his arm to halt his forward movement. Harry turned to the kid and asked, What is it? Is there a problem?

Nah, said the boy who looked shocked that the savior of the wizarding world was actually talking to him in the flesh and it showed in the boy s words. B-but Professor Dumbledore g-gave t-this to me to give to you at my earliest convenience. The young boy held out a hand with a letter in it.

Harry gnawed his lip. What did Albus want now? As far as Harry knew, the Headmaster wasn t one to pass on personal notes or requests in writing to students in the hallway; especially through the means of another student.

Thank you if I may ask, what is your name?

Anthony Miller, came the boy s reply.

It s nice to meet you Anthony. Thank you for passing on the message to me.

You re welcome, said the boy. Then he did an about-face and walked away whistling under his breath.

Now Harry s curiosity was really piqued. He had made it abundantly clear that he didn t care to talk to the Headmaster that evening in June, so why was he insistent on contacting him about something now when he had kept the prophecy secret for so many years?

Harry stood there in the middle of the hallway and unrolled the letter and proceeded to read the familiar slanted handwriting that he had read once before at Christmas time his first year:

Dear Harry:

This request is born out of necessity and nothing less Mr. Potter. If I may ask of you one request that s paramount to defeating a certain Dark lord it would be that you come to my office on Friday evening to explore the physiology and machinations of Tom Riddle. I feel that it s time I share with you one more aspect of his life that only I know of to date except Tom himself. In this matter, I must ask for your complete secrecy. And with that I leave you with this saying to ponder: "Immortality is a dream which people cry for and on their knees apply for, dispute, contend, and lie for, and if allowed, would be right proud, eternally to die for."

Sincerely:  
Albus Dumbledore

PS: The password is acid pops.

Harry rolled up the letter and put it in his pocket for safe-keeping. He didn t know what Professor Dumbledore was nattering on about, but information gained is valuable no m matter who the source is. So yes he would go to the Headmaster s office as asked, but he would listen to what he had to say with the proper skepticism, because why now would he be telling him this when he had the chance when he finally saw fit to share the contents of the prophecy after keeping it to himself for so long? This just goes to show that Albus is unwilling and incapable of changing. But as the old saying goes, know thy enemy better than yourself. Harry needed to gather all of the dirt he could on Lord Voldemort if he was going to have any hopes of killing him before the treatment made him deathly ill, so he would do it, and it would be done. Like the decision would be to treat his cancer or not was permanent, so too would this one be.

Poppy seemed rather busy when Harry stepped into the hospital wing. As far as he could tell two third year boys had been involved in a flying accident and she was trying to patch them up. There also appeared to be a tiny first year girl sitting on a bed, all scraped up, and Poppy was trying to divide her attention between the two boys and the crying child.

Harry stepped up to the bed Poppy was currently at and followed her as she moved back over to the upset girl.

"Is there anything I can do that would help?"

"Oh I don't know Harry, I'm not supposed to " the healer trailed off as she glanced back at the two injured boys whom she hadn't yet finished tending to, and looked back at the little girl, contemplating something. Finally she seemed to make a decision.

"Oh you'll manage just fine I'm sure! It's a simple spell, there's not much that can go wrong." She seemed to be speaking to herself more than Harry, but she then turned to him and spoke once more.

"If I taught you how to heal some minor cuts and scrapes would you be okay to be left to heal Holly while I deal with those two? I'm confident you'll manage but if not, or if you're not comfortable with it, I can do it myself."

"No, that's okay! It'd be really cool to learn to heal something actually, I promise I'll be really careful though, I don't want to hurt her."

"Right, Holly, do you mind if Mr. Potter practices healing up some of your scrapes? I'll let him have a go on some learning devices first and if he can manage well enough I'll let him try it on you. Is that okay?" The little girl had fallen silent and just nodded slightly, her eyes wide and bright.

"Right then Harry, this way." Poppy led Harry to the supply cabinet and fished out a bodiless arm, handing it to him. It was an obviously magical contraption, due to the real-flesh feeling of the object, over which Poppy waved her wand to prompt the appearance of a number of cuts and scrapes up the arm in ascending order of size and depth.

"This is a training device for those doing healer apprenticeships Harry. Now, what I want you to do is say the incantation condotex over the cut or scrape, and while you are doing that I want you to look at it and imagine the damaged flesh regrown and merging, and the blood vessels rejoining. Once you've done that I want you to speak the incantation obvolvocorium , and imagine a new layer of skin growing and covering over the newly healed flesh while waving your wand over the scrape. Does that make sense? Do you think you can manage that?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Okay, you give it a try on the smallest one first, I'll be back in just a second."

Poppy went off to tend to the boys and Harry looked at the first scrape. He pictured in his head the damaged areas of flesh growing to repair the ragged edges, and even further, until they all met and merged together as he spoke the incantation. The scrape on the arm followed the image in his head, leaving a patch of healed flesh instead of small scratches and abrasions. He then waved his wand slowly over the now bright pink area of open flesh and imagined a thin layer of skin growing over the appropriate area and joining with the rest of the skin, speaking the second incantation in the process. When he was done everything seemed to be alright, though there appeared to be a bruise forming in the area he had healed, causing Harry to frown.

It wasn't supposed to do that.

Harry wanted to try again but he waited until Poppy had come back over to join him and take a look at his first attempt at healing.

"Not bad for a first go Harry! Try again, except this time try and get the blood vessels to rejoin and repair as well, that are what's causing the bruising." Harry nodded and brought up his wand to make another attempt, this time making sure to imagine the tiny blood vessels sealing together once more throughout the flesh, as well as the flesh itself growing back together into a healthy and undamaged state. This time, when he was finished there was no sign that anything had ever been wrong with the arm and, after a small wait, no bruises appeared.

"Very well done Harry! It takes most beginner healers a lot of practice to get the hang of healing like that. They find it difficult to imagine it properly in their head, because they don't really have any experience or first-hand knowledge on what the healing process truly goes like. It takes a few tries and then once they have the experience of doing it right they know how to properly visualize what needs to be done. Good job on picking it up so quickly!" Poppy was beaming with pride for Harry.

Harry couldn't help but blush, but he grinned shyly at her praise, pleased she was happy with his accomplishment. He thought he had done so well because he knew quite intimately the healing process for cuts and scrapes and burns etc. ranging from practically nothing to extremely severe.

"Alright, try the worst one so we can make sure but I think you'll do perfectly fine healing Miss Whyte."

Harry did as she asked and came across no problems, though he noticed that it had taken a lot more concentration and time to be able to continuously imagine the on-going process of growth and repair for the wider area of the wound and the deeper cuts. Poppy did nothing but beam at him and nod her head in approval before leaving him in order to go finish up tending to the younger boys.

Holly had been watching attentively, no longer seeming bothered by her painful looking cuts and scrapes in the face of something as, apparently, fascinating as Harry.

Harry smiled at her.

"Hello Holly. So, what happened that got you all banged up?" She continued to stare at him in a rather child-like manner as he held her arm in his hand and set about visualizing, waving and incanting.

"I tripped on the stones outside. I always fall over, my friends say that I'm really clumsy. Are you really going to heal all of my sore bits?" Harry finished the first one and replied.

"Yep. The first one's done already, see?"

"Wow! That's so cool Harry! I wish I could heal stuff! Healers are really smart aren't they? I bet your friend could be a healer. She's really, really smart isn't she?"

"Well I'm sure you could be a healer someday. You just have to try as hard as you can and believe you can do it, no matter what anyone else says."

"You really think so? But my friend says "

"It doesn't matter what your friend says, if you want it bad enough and you try hard enough I'm positive you'll manage. Don't let anyone else tell you that you can't okay?"

"Okay. I'll try really hard then Harry, I promise!"

"That's all anyone can ask of you." Harry smiled at the girl's enthusiasm and happiness at the idea that she could someday be a healer.

He couldn't be sure but he didn't think he, or anyone else, had been this childish in first year. She acted younger than 11 years old. He was almost done with her cuts and scrapes, with just a few left on her face to go. It looked an awful lot like she had fallen face first on those stones.

"You're my new friend." Holly announced firmly out of the blue.

"Really? Why is that?" Harry asked, a spike of amusement shooting through him.

"'cause you're really nice to me. And you can heal all my sore bits do you want to be my friend?" Holly added on more doubtfully.

"Of course I do! Tell you what, I'll come visit you at your table at dinner some time, how does that sound?"

"Yay!" The girl threw her arms in the air as though cheering at a Quidditch match.

"Alright, that's it. You're all done." Harry informed her, a sense of pride in himself growing as he looked at the now unmarred skin of her face, palms and arms. Holly jumped off of the bed and hugged him around the middle tightly.

"Thank you Harry! I sit at the Slytherin table, come visit me soon okay?"

"Okay, bye!" Harry practically had to shout after her as she ran out of the hospital wing doors at top speed. Harry thought he was beginning to understand why she was considered to be so clumsy.

"Nicely done Harry; you'd make a good healer you know. Had you ever considered it before?"

"Not really. You have to get really good marks to be a healer, don't you?"

"Well not necessarily. The good marks are more important for applying for an apprenticeship in healing. They are very difficult to get, because we can't just let any old person become a healer, obviously, just like you wouldn't let any old person become a surgeon in the Muggle world. So having good marks helps because, generally, when people do well in school, it shows that they are hard-workers and can pay careful attention. That is essential because if someone is unconcerned with the learning of healing they might seriously hurt a patient. There is no set time for an apprenticeship either because some people pick some things up much quicker than others."

"So there isn't an exam or something that signifies you being a proper healer at the end when you pass it? In the Muggle world, doctors and surgeons have to pass several rather complex exams before they become certified medical practitioners.

"No, a person becomes a fully-fledged healer when they take The Healers Oath. It is a binding magical contract with many different aspects geared towards making sure that patients get the best possible care."

"What kind of aspects does it have?"

"Well, the one you will be most familiar with is the confidentiality aspect. In your case it means that a healer cannot break healer-patient confidentiality unless it would be in your best interests to do so, and even then it is only possible to inform the guardians. The Healers Oath magically prevents confidentiality from being broken, except in such exceptional cases, by physically stopping the healer in question, I couldn't tell anyone about your family if I tried for example. Should the problem be with the guardians in the first place, however, The Oath appoints someone as The Oaths Exception, not very original I know, but it basically means that the spell detects the one person who is the most responsible for you and allows the healer to break the confidentiality in order to tell them. It is impossible as yet to break healer-patient confidentiality beyond that."

"Wait a minute does that mean you told this Exception person about my family?" Harry gulped, trying to estimate the repercussions if she had. Poppy sighed.

"I'm sorry Harry. I know you didn't want me to tell anyone but I couldn't just stand by and watch you get abused in that awful home! I would have had you out of there in the blink of an eye if I could, it's just, he wouldn't stand for it." Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Who?" he asked, faintly.

"Professor Dumbledore."

"You mean, he knows? He knows about the Dursleys and he leaves me there to stay with them?" Harry's legs felt weak at the pure betrayal that leaked from his every pore, contaminating and tainting everything around him and forcing him to sit down on a bed before he fell down. All traces of happiness at his healing achievement were gone.

"Ohhhh, honey, I'm so sorry that he is The Oaths Exception, I really tried my hardest to get you out of there but he just wouldn't listen. He said it was imperative that you stay behind the blood wards. I know that you didn't want me to tell anyone, but, I just couldn't allow you to stay in that place! What you must think of me, all this time you thought I knew what was happening and didn't care enough to do something about it."

Poppy referring to Harry as "Honey" was, funnily enough, the part of her speech which had impacted him most. It gave him a start and pushed him towards realizing what this meant for his relationship with Poppy. He had always been happy that he knew he could trust her with even the worst of his secrets, but even he could admit that it had always been over-shadowed by the sadness that she must not care about him enough to break that trust in his own interest. He had heard many stories from his housemates of parents or friends doing something that they didn't like, but the family and friends were only doing it for their own good. Said friends had done nothing but complain of course, but he'd wished he had someone that was willing to do that for him. And now he had found someone who clearly cared about him a great deal.

But he had also lost someone else who he'd thought had cared about him to some degree at the same time. He was caught between two emotional extremes: love and elation, betrayal and sadness.

Harry abruptly moved from his statuesque position on the bed and wrapped his arms tightly around Poppy, feeling the tears begin to fall as he finally settled on one of the warring emotions, pushing the others to the side for later.

He finally had someone he could depend on.

Dumbledore may have turned out to be nothing more than a selfish, obsessive meddling old man with nothing on his mind but the defeat of the dark at any cost, but that was unimportant in comparison to the bond he now felt he had with this healer, standing in front of him and hugging him back. The woman who had been nothing but kind to him, who had taken care of him, listened to his problems, comforted him when he cried, encouraged him, given him advice, and he now realized, tried to protect him.

His tears were silent as they slid down his face, a testament to his feelings over finding out that he was truly cared for. Poppy rubbed his back and made comforting noises until Harry pulled back and swiped the tears away with the back of his hand.

"I always thought you just chose not to tell anyone. I thank you. For trying to help me. No one else has ever done something like that for me before."

Poppy stroked his hair back from his face and smiled at the sincere gratitude and, dare she think it, love in his voice and expression. She simply adored this young man. She felt like she had played an important role in his life, and she was so proud of the man he was becoming. It felt like watching a son of her own blossom and grow over the years. Her smile almost slipped when the harsh memory of his cancer slammed into her with the force of a train, leaving nothing but the wreckage of her emotions. It felt amazing to know she was just as important to this young man as he was to her, after all, she lived a rather lonely life as well with the lack of any living family, but she could think of nothing more earth-shattering, or heart-breaking or devastating than having him leave her behind, to have his presence missing forevermore. She vowed to keep persisting until the boy who she saw as a son decided to seek every treatment possible to cure him. For she knew that patients undergoing extremely strenuous treatments for terminal illnesses often times agreed for the first round of treatments but lost the will to try something more drastic. Poppy was going to ensure that Harry always had a reason to keep smiling so that he would have the desire and fight necessary to go on living.

She knew then that she could not let him leave without telling him he was loved. She could not bear the thought of him dying not knowing that he would always be in her thoughts, as if it were her own son that had died.

"Harry what I do for you, I do out of love. Don't ever forget that, my son." The affection and love bled from her voice, and filled the air around Harry, whose face crumpled at her confession, the emotion getting the better of him.

He was her son in every way that mattered.

And nothing would ever change that.

Harry made a last minute decision. Albus had so utterly betrayed him, so why should Harry honor his request to remain mum about their private discussion? So the black-haired youth reached in his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to Poppy if for no other reason than to spite Albus with-too-many-last-namesDumbledore.

What is this, asked Poppy intrigued.

The Headmaster had a third year by the name of Anthony Miller deliver this to me just before I came here. Albus and I didn t part on the best of terms last year but I never would ve guessed he d blatantly ignore what the Dursleys did to me on a daily basis during the summers. Anyways, he requested that I keep the contents of this letter to myself, but I feel that someone else deserves to know. Since you went to bat for me against the Headmaster who The Healers Oath chose as the ruddy Exception and since you ve been a steady and solid presence in my life, you are the person who I choose to share this with. With Harry s permission given, Poppy unrolled the parchment and read the letter. What she had expected it to say she didn t know, but this wasn t it. She was shocked to her very core that the leader of the light would be willing to place so much on the shoulders of a teenager. Why should Harry be forced to learn about the intricate details of the Dark Lord s life?

Poppy handed the letter back to Harry with tears glistening in her eyes. She reached her arms out and hugged the boy she considered her son in all but blood before he left.

That night, as Harry left the hospital wing to find his friends with a bag of potions to relieve unbearable pain in hand, Poppy locked her office door, cast silencing charms around the room, sat down in her chair, and wept.

She wept in grief, she wept in agony, and she wept with anger that a life like Harry's could so easily be taken from them.

Time had given Harry a chance to completely absorb the full meaning of Poppy's revelation and he couldn't remember ever being this angry and betrayed. He tried not to show it but Ron and Hermione could tell something was up, they kept asking him probing questions along the lines of whether or not he was okay. Hermione had also taken to touching him frequently in a calming capacity, whether it was holding his hand and stroking the back with her thumb, or running her hands through his hair. Ron was the one to make sure no one did or said anything stupid and steer the conversations in safe directions. It did help him feel slightly better but Harry felt like he just couldn't get past this anger at Dumbledore and the lie he had weaved that he actually loved Harry, that he cared for him.

Ha! What a joke!

There was no way he was catering to the old man s whims anymore, not now that he knew that he had just been manipulating him all along. He wouldn't be open about it though. It would be simply idiotic to walk up to the Headmaster and start ranting and raving at him about how he was left to rot in a personal hell, not if he wanted to keep his home-life a secret anyway. So from now on, he would only acquiesce to the Headmaster s whims if they would prove beneficial to him, or if resisting the request would expose his home life which is the last thing he wanted.

Harry felt like he needed to let out this anger somewhere though, and soon.

Fortunately for Harry the chance came to him as he made his way back to the common room after classes as Michael Corner's voice drifted in his direction, the topic of his conversation being extremely derogatory. Judging by the glances he shot in the direction of Ginny, who was walking around the corner at the end of the corridor with her head down, it was aimed at someone he should know better than to insult. Harry felt the anger in him flare and something snapped. He stalked over to Michael and grabbed the collar of his shirt, whirling him around and causing his friends to back off in alarm at the no doubt rather homicidal expression on his face.

"I have a bone to pick with you Corner."

End Chapter

A/N: (1) If you're not really getting the explanation as to how Harry climbed up the stairs on the walls, here's a video which should give you the right idea as to what he did, except instead of just going up he went forwards too to get up the stairs:

/watch?v3TNEw1kdQ4&NR1

(I hope that actually worked :)

(2) I think Americans are more used to the phrase "good grades" instead of "good marks", but they mean the same thing really.

Also, the modified quote in the Headmaster s letter doesn t belong to me, or to him really. So please don t sue.

Lastly, sorry for the long author s note but it needed to be said. Let me know how you like me including the horcrux lessons (as I m sure many of you have guessed) into the fic? Do you like the two knew occs? Holly is my all-time favorite between all of the occs I plan on including. Never fear, the story won t be overrun with original characters as it seriously annoys me when people do that.

A/N: Thanks goes out to the two people who reviewed chapter two. Let me know if any of the formatting is off since I uploaded this file as a rtf instead of doc. And on a random note, we got our first snow today.


	4. Chapter 4: Perception

Diagnosis

A/N: Thank you all for your reviews so far! I'm blown away by the response I got last chapter, six reviews in just a little over a week is impressive for this site. From what I understand, this site doesn't get as many readers and reviewers as say ff dot net gets, so thank you lot for making me feel like you care whether I update or not. (this was originally posted on another site, disregard that part) Given the response to the last chapter, I decided to update early. *puts icing on the cinnamon rolls and passes them around* I'm curious as to what length you all would like to see these chapters become in the future. Do you like them as they are, or would you prefer that the chapters were shorter, longer? Let me know your opinions. I personally prefer to read chapters around this length when I'm reading, the question is what about you lot? As a reward for your continual support, I added a smut scene of sorts in this chapter :D Hope you enjoy. Edited 3-23-13; all punctuation marks, quotes and apostraphys should be in their proper place now.

Onwards!

Warning: This chapter contains a lime. Consider yourselves warned.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to my best friend s cousin Treecy who has been battling cancer for almost a year now. We just found out that its spread to her liver which doesn t leave the 20 year old with much options left. It s going to take a miracle for her to pull through.

Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to the Potter verse then Harry would've had more fun at Hogwarts than JKR allowed him to; he certainly wouldn't have ended up with Ginny Weasley.

Chapter 4 Perception

"GUYS!"

The exclamation was yelled across the general noise of the common room, causing Draco and Blaise to look up at the voices of the missing half of their group. Pansy was waving her hand frantically in an attempt to indicate that they should come with them, and judging by the hurried and excited looks on both Pansy and Millie's faces, they should hurry up about it.

Draco and Blaise climbed out of their seats and made their way out of the common room into the corridor where the girls had retreated.

"What's up?" The group began moving quickly through the school with the girls taking the lead.

"Potter's going completely mental at Corner in the corridor coming off the entrance hall. Hurry up or we'll miss it!" Draco slowed down at the discovery that it was merely more Potter-watching that had got them all flustered, but quickly sped up with his friends' poking and prodding. Admittedly, it would be interesting to see Harry in a fight with someone other than himself.

It wasn't long until the Slytherin girls located the commotion, as though they had some kind of Potter-radar. Draco made this opinion known, although all he earned for his witty remark was a roll of the eyes and some blank looks. It seemed they had arrived just in time, though it was clear they had missed Potter's initial rant, as he appeared to have fallen silent.

Corner sneered in a rather pitiful way which just couldn't measure up to Draco's cool, dismissive, superior expression.

"Is that what this is about? I take it you're another one of her boyfriends. Come to defend her honor?" he snorted disbelievingly, "Please, as if you'd actually do anything. This just proves my point that she's a complete slut."

Harry growled and grabbed him by his shirt, shoving him into the wall. Draco raised his eyebrows. Harry didn't normally resort to physical violence with him after all. Instead he would be going for his wand around about now. Interesting

"If you even dare speak another insult about Ginny, or any of my other friends for that matter, I can assure you I most certainly will do something about it. I promise, you self-absorbed prick, that I'll make sure that you regret pushing me to it more than anything else in the world. Do I make myself clear?" Harry's voice was hard and dangerous.

Before Corner could make a response, however, a voice spoke out from the crowd, catching their attention.

"Harry! Just leave him alone, he's not worth it." Ginny stood at the edge of the surrounding circle of people, holding her hand out towards him in an appeal to come away from the annoyance standing in front of him. She didn't want Harry getting hurt or into trouble. Harry huffed angrily but loosened his grip and backed off, taking Ginny's hand and beginning to walk away from the scene with her

Until Corner made the mistake of trying to get the last word in.

"Told you she's a man-eater. She's even got Potter whipped, and he's practically immune to everyone else. Of course, she would touch something untouchable." Corner taunted nastily, thinking his joke was funny since the friend he was speaking to gave an unsure smile.

Harry felt Ginny tense up beside him and saw her lower her head out of the corner of his eye; her hair covered her face in embarrassment and misplaced shame.

The Slytherins, meanwhile, had been rather disappointed at the anti-climactic display. That was until Harry squeezed Ginny's hand comfortingly and apologized for what he was about to do. He then turned around and strode purposefully back towards Corner, slinging his bag off of his shoulder and to the side on the floor as he went.

The Slytherins lightened up as the situation got a whole lot more interesting again, though they followed the crowd's actions of taking a step back in anticipation of the trouble Harry was obviously about to cause.

They could all see it coming, though they didn't exactly know what "it" would be. This became clear, however, when Harry did not stop or slow down as he approached Corner. Instead he raised his fist, pulled it back, and let it go with an unexpected amount of speed and strength.

The spectacular specimen of a punch landed right in the center of Corner's face and sent him reeling. He stumbled backwards and fell on his backside as the force of impact traveled through his system.

"Ah!" he shouted, clapping a hand to his nose and screwing up his eyes in pain. The blood could easily be seen from behind his hand as it flowed and dripped freely.

There were a few seconds where everyone just watched Corner clutch at his face in so-called agony, in complete shock at Harry.

"Whoa." breathed Blaise, glancing at Draco and trying to imagine Potter punching his best friend like that. The consequence to this line of thought was surprisingly a quiet snigger to himself, unnoticed by anyone else, as the image of Draco screeching in indignation at Potter ruining his face and putting him in such an undignified position came to him. Well, once he'd finished being a complete crybaby about the no doubt painful experience that getting punched by that powerful fist was. Ohhhh yes, Draco's feathers would be more than ruffled, he would be furious.

"How pathetic." Harry sighed, sounding utterly unimpressed and disappointed. He walked over to stand at the boy's side and crouched down next to him in order to speak to him, a mocking tone spread liberally over his voice.

"Aren't you at least going to defend yourself? I just punched you after all; don't tell me all your confidence has deserted you now? Where's the hard-man gone?"

"You broke my fucking nose!" Corner seemed to try and assess the damage as best he could without a mirror and, right enough, his nose was swelling rapidly as twin bruises seeped their way into existence to color his eyes in black and blue.

Harry just rolled his eyes in a bored fashion and stood back up.

"What the hell did you hit me for?" Corner questioned half in anger and half disbelievingly.

"You're nothing but a bully Corner, that's why. You seem to think it's funny to bring people down but I'm telling you now, it's not. You really need to grow up, and do it fast. I simply can't tolerate a damn bully!" Harry ended it with a snarl.

Harry gave Corner one last disgusted look and once more made to walk off, picking up his bag again when it seemed like Corner would not be getting back up to fight him, only to be halted in the process once more by Corner's voice.

"That's not an excuse, you don't go around punching Malfoy!"

Draco perked up and listened more closely, interested at the mention of his name. Harry laughed and spun back around; unaware that any of the Slytherins were even there and listening eagerly to his reasons.

"Malfoy? Malfoy is hardly a bully. Do you see him walking around calling people names and spreading rumors and generally being quite thoroughly immature? No. He, at least, has a shred of decency and maturity in him, unlike you."

"Maybe, he's alright with most people but he bullies you." Corner claimed accusingly, now sitting up and attempting to stem the flow of blood while giving the odd pathetic whine of pain every now and then. Harry merely snorted in amusement.

"Malfoy doesn't bully me. He's not actively out to bring me down and hurt me in any way he can. That's the rather large difference between you and him."

"That's rubbish and you know it Potter! He insults your family name for heaven's sake, that's disrespecting your dead parents! What other reason could he have for doing that?"

"So what?" an after-shock of surprise rippled through the crowd.

"My relationship with Malfoy is an extremely complicated and delicate thing Corner, I wouldn't expect you to understand why we act the way we do. Not that I would tell you why things are the way they are. My reasons are private and I have no doubt that Malfoy's motivations are too." Harry flapped his hand dismissively.

"Besides, Malfoy's harmless, Corner. He may be plenty of things, but a bully isn't one of them. He annoys me like no other and he sure as hell has a talent for figuring out what buttons to push and when, but does he make me cry? No. Does he make me feel insecure about myself or the people around me? No. Do I actually believe some of the crap he comes away with? No. All he does is shake things up a little, and more importantly, I can be just as spiteful back at him. Our rivalry is hardly one-sided so how can he be the bully? As for you, you're nothing but a disappointment, a bore, and, as I've already said, a bully." Harry snorted mockingly.

"Both of you may not be used to fighting muggle-style but at least he would have punched me back. Tell me Corner, how does it feel to know that Malfoy has more balls than you do?" Harry raised an eyebrow in derogatory question, though only Corner caught it.

"Shut up! If you don't think Malfoy's a bully then just what the hell is he, huh? Tell me that then, if you think you're so smart."

"That's hardly a challenge Corner. Malfoy is my equal. He is my opponent; my balance; my challenger; my constant even. Take your pick, they all mean the same thing for me in the end."

Corner was left with nothing to say to that as Harry and Ginny left along with Hermione and Ron, who had just arrived with worried and questioning looks in their eyes.

The Slytherins were left standing in the corridor, along with the rest of those who had watched, unsure of what to make of Potter's disclosures.

xxx

"Well I don't know about you, but I have no clue what to make of that. Does what he said about you even make sense? I mean, he was speaking about you, right?"

Pansy questioned Draco confusedly as Millie, Blaise, and Nott sat on Nott's bed doing their transfiguration homework. The group of friends were once more gathered in their usual hang out after the drama of Potter and Corner's rather one-sided fight, which also happened to be the boys' dormitory room. The rest of the Slytherins tended to just stick to the common room if they were even in the dungeons, unintentionally giving the group their privacy.

"I'm not sure. Honestly, I can't even remember what he said really. Just that it certainly wasn't the answer I was expecting when Corner started questioning him about me."

"Millie will remember, she remembers practically every word of every conversation. We can ask her to go through what he said a bit at a time and we'll look at it logically to try and figure out what he must have meant. How does that sound?" Pansy suggested.

"Yeah, sure."

"Millie, come here a sec."

Millicent looked up from her homework questions on correct wand movements and made her way over to sit beside Draco and Pansy, both of whom were on Draco's four-poster.

"What's up?"

"Go through what Potter said about Draco will you? We're trying to understand what he was waffling on about."

"Right. He said that you weren't a bully and that, while you might make him really angry, you don't actually upset him, whereas Corner does upset people. Also, he pointed out that you were both as bad as each other in terms of insulting each other and whatnot."

"Okay, it sounds like he's admitting you're actually a good guy except when you start fights with him, but then he's just as bad so it doesn't count or something. But that doesn't fit with Potter's level of maturity though. He just sees us all as evil because we're in Slytherin. I doubt he could admit that we had even a smidgen of good in us. So what he really meant must have been "

Millicent took over Pansy's train of thought as she struggled to find an answer.

"I think he was trying to save face and make Corner look bad." Draco nodded in understanding while Pansy seemed to need further explanation.

"I see what you mean. He must have been trying to imply that he couldn't care less about me or what I say to him, making him seem all tough after Corner implying he gets bullied by me, and at the same time discrediting Corner and making him look even more like the bad guy of the situation because he genuinely did upset Weasley. But in actual fact he does care about what I say to him, he just doesn't want to admit it and have people know how much of a baby he is."

"Oh, I get it!" Pansy snorted. "Arrogant git. So what about that nonsense with you being his balance and his constant and stuff instead of a bully? I'll bet he was trying to sound all deep and impressive or something. Well, I'm not buying it."

Blaise could hear his friends' conversation and couldn't help but join in. He was the main driving force behind the mission to know every single detail of gossip about Harry Potter, and he wasn't missing out on anything.

"I agree, he was probably making stuff up on the spot to confuse Corner and make himself sound smart. I mean, fair enough saying you're his opponent and his challenger and whatnot, because you are really, but balance? Exactly what are you supposed to be balancing about him anyway? How can you balance a person? I don't think that even makes sense!"

"Agreed."

There was silence for a moment as everyone took a moment to mull over Potter's words and their possible meanings, which were obviously different than what he actually said as far as the Slytherins were concerned. It never occurred to them that maybe everything wasn't so complicated and that Potter had simply meant what he had said.

"Do you think I bully Potter?" Draco asked his friends, feeling uncertain. He had never thought about it before but he supposed how he treated Potter technically could be considered bullying. That had never been his intention though. He would never say such things to someone he didn't think could handle it. But did that matter? Was it still bullying?

"Oh, don't think for a minute that you bully anyone. You're a good person, no matter what anyone else thinks, and Potter can't preach when he treats you just the same. It's not like you have an unfair advantage that you exploit or anything and in general there is a line you don't cross. You wouldn't kick him while he was down or anything." Pansy was quick to reassure Draco.

"I don't know. I've said some really horrible things to him in the past when he's made me so angry that I'd just yell anything I could think of at him without really thinking it over. Like his dead parents, that's going really far actually, isn't it?" Draco bit his lip in guilt.

"How about this for an example then: Cedric Diggory's death. Potter was well and truly down then and it would be easy to bring Diggory up, but you never did. That was the line and you didn't cross it. And it's not like he has any real emotional connection to his parents, not like if they had died recently. Do you understand?"

"I guess " was Draco's reluctantly accepting answer.

Nott's annoyed, nasal voice spoke out into the room in a tone of voice that made it clear he thought it beneath him to chatter away to friends about such trivial matters.

"As fascinating and entertaining as it is to hear your insightful opinions on Potter, can we please finish this homework? I'd prefer a little help here and I'm not waiting on you lot gossiping all night."

Millicent, who had her back to the boy, rolled her eyes and watched her friends try to suppress their giggles before sighing and going back to her homework, this time accompanied by the rest of her group. Pansy, however, couldn't help but whisper to Draco one last comment before she too went to dig out her schoolbooks.

"You know, Potter may be an over-rated twat, but you have to admit, that was so cool, don't you think? Did you see that punch?"

Harry couldn't help but scowl at the essay he had gotten back from Snape just twenty-five minutes earlier. He sat on his stool in potions waiting for the moment when he was supposed to get up and stir his potion and he was feeling quite annoyed and stressed for a number of reasons.

Firstly, he hadn't exactly been feeling great this morning when he woke up with his head throbbing painfully in a quiet, needling kind of way. Unfortunately he was feeling no better now. He had no doubt in his mind that his headache could be a million times worse if it weren't for the potions Poppy had given him to take every morning and night, but that didn't change the fact that it was still definitely there.

Secondly, the fumes from the potions were absolutely sickening to him, and this, combined with the stifling heat from the flames under each potion, left him feeling like there was a tiny man rocking an equally tiny boat rather violently in his stomach in an attempt to get him to be sick.

Lastly, on top of feeling sick, he had only just scraped a pass by the skin of his teeth on this latest potions essay, and Snape had taken the opportunity to mock him in front of the entire class for the utter nonsense he had apparently written when he handed it back.

So Harry sat there feeling hot, flushed, ill, frustrated, and annoyed at, not only his lack of potions skills, but at Snape's digs at him for a complete lack of intelligence too.

Then Snape came along and stopped at Harry's cauldron.

He sneered in disgust at Harry's attempt at the Elixir of Euphoria and immediately set about letting Harry know exactly how he thought Harry had done.

"Potter, quite frankly it astounds me just how spectacularly you can screw everything potions related up. If I didn't know any better I could swear you did it on purpose. Did you even use a formula to calculate how much rose water you needed or did you just guess? Don't you understand anything I have tried to teach to that simple mind of yours ?"

"No." Harry cut in, his arms folded and a scowl on his face. He was not in the mood to sit here quietly as Snape humiliated him. Snape blinked at Harry in shock and the rest of the class looked up from their cauldrons and notes in surprise.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Clearly I don't understand anything you've taught me. I suppose it would be too much to ask of you to actually try and explain it to me in more detail, or in a different way, instead of just commenting on it and watching as I continue to learn absolutely nothing from you though, wouldn't it." Harry glowered up at Snape, waiting on the man to start shouting at him for daring to imply he wasn't teaching him properly and yelling that it was his own fault he couldn't seem to get a good grip of potions theory.

But the tirade never came. Instead Snape considered him stoically until Harry unfolded his arms and glared half-heartedly at the wall beside him, feeling uncomfortable at the intensity of Snape's eyes boring into his.

"Stay at the end of the class Mr. Potter, and clear your things away, this potion is useless."

Snape strode to the front of the classroom to once more begin doing the rounds of the students' cauldrons, and Harry began clearing away his potions supplies, feeling confused. The rest of the people in the room would occasionally glance his way and at Snape as they continued their own potions, curious as to what exactly had just transpired to make Snape back off of Harry. Surely it couldn't be just because Harry had spoken back to him?

It wasn't long before the classroom was empty and Harry was left sitting at his desk, his head resting on his folded arms. The fumes had more or less dissipated and the fires no longer burned, allowing Harry's stomach to settle somewhat as he cooled down and breathed fresher air. This left only the lingering pain of his headache to deal with in the background as he prepared himself for whatever it was Snape might do to him.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry raised his head from his arms and looked at Snape to acknowledge the request for his attention.

"Are you free for remedial potions lessons on a Wednesday after dinner?"

Harry stared at the man, trying to figure out if he was imagining things.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I asked you when you were free for remedial potions lessons. Do you not wish to take them?"

"No! Actually I'd love to take them." Snape merely blinked at Harry, so he spoke up once more.

"Well, I'd do just about anything to make potions easier at this point I guess. Honestly I think I've tried everything else, but " Snape fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Just say it Mr. Potter." Harry only hesitated briefly before deciding not to play dumb.

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand why you're offering them. I expected you to be angry at me for what I said."

"I see. There is no reason I should get angry at one of my students for telling me they do not understand and they want me to help them. Perhaps you could have said it with a little more respect but I understand why you didn't and will not punish you for it. This time."

There was a moment of silence as Harry took this in.

"If you don't mind helping me then why did you never do it before?"

"How can I help someone who does not ask for it, Potter? Not once have you indicated that you had any interest whatsoever in improving your potions skills. I don't have time for people who will do nothing but waste it. If you needed help then you should have come to me and asked, you can't expect me to be a mind reader. If you want to try and improve your grade in potions and promise to take it seriously then I have no problem spending an hour a week with you going over whatever it is that you do not understand."

"Oh. While I see your point, and I would like to take up remedial potions, I have to ask, how on earth could you expect me to ask you for help when all you do is constantly insult me and put me down? You do realize that, that attitude to your students is hardly going to motivate them into asking you when they don't understand something, right?"

"If someone is truly determined to do well in my subject then they will ask me in spite of being intimidated. As I have already said, I have no time for people who could not care less about whether or not they understand potions. I would simply be wasting my time as anything I say would go in one ear and out the other, which means that the students who genuinely want to do well receive less of my time."

"Well how did you know that I cared that I was doing badly and wanted to try and understand? How did you know I wasn't just uninterested like before?"

"The fact that you finally said something about how I have made no effort to go out of my way to help you understand. If you didn't care whether or not I helped then you wouldn't have mentioned it as something that annoyed you. Now, that is enough interrogation I believe, I have work to do. I will make the necessary arrangements and inform you when your remedial lessons will begin. Good day."

Snape began rearranging papers on his desk until he found a pile of unmarked essays and Harry nodded and said goodbye as he left the classroom, feeling out of sorts at the realization that Snape did actually seem to care about his students doing well on some level. He wasn't sure what he thought of him leaving the people who didn't care to their own devices, in fact, he thought that maybe Snape should at least try to motivate them and help them, but what he had said about it just being a waste of time did make sense in a way at least. If it wasn't for the fact that the man disliked Harry for something as insignificant as his parentage he might actually be an alright bloke. Maybe.

Much to Harry's dismay, when he finally left the dungeons corridors with a sense of great accomplishment at the forefront of his mind, he realized that not only had his rather courageous request to ask for potions help taken up all of his fifteen minute break, but he was going to be late for Charms, if he didn't book it upstairs. And the last thing he wanted to do at this moment was run helter-skelter through the corridors just to avoid getting a dressing down from Professor Flitwick for his tardiness, because he still felt rather nauseous, though his headache had abated somewhat which was a complete 360 degree turnaround from how he felt in potions class, thanks to the potions that Poppy had given him. Harry decided to risk Professor Flitwick's wrath rather than the alternative, so he walked at a fast pace, though he flat out refused to run like Godric himself was after him. He saw no need in risking chucking up his meager breakfast.

Five minutes later, Harry quietly pushed open the door to Professor Flitwick's classroom and was mortified to see the whole Gryffindor/Slytherin class gazing back at him. He had really tried his best to avoid making a spectacle of himself, after what happened in potions earlier. But it was to no avail. He blushed red as he just knew that the rest of the school would have heard about how he had all but insisted that Severus Snape change his teaching style to suit the student's individual needs. But maybe everyone in the sixth year class was in too much shock at Harry's gall to start spreading the story around just yet.

Harry glanced around the room in search of an empty seat. Luckily for the raven-haired boy, Hermione had been kind enough to save him a seat beside her. Harry sat down to Hermione's right as Professor Flitwick read off the last name on the register, "Blaise Zabini." After the Italian boy raised his hand in affirmation that he was in the class, Professor Flitwick cleared his throat and said in his squeaky voice, "Mr. Potter, what was the cause of your uncharacteristic tardiness this morning? Do I need to cast a monitoring charm on you so that I can make sure that this behavior of tardiness doesn't become a pattern in my classroom?"

Harry's face turned scarlet at Flitwick's implication that he was incapable of time management. "No Sir. It won't happen again. I wasn't dilly-dallying around, you can ask Professor Snape if you need too; I stayed after the bell in the potions lab to have a private discussion with him." Some of the more malicious Slytherins chuckled at Harry's embarrassment.

"I'll do just that," replied Flitwick. Harry was glad that the Professor was willing to trust his word for the time being and that he didn't take points. However, the Gryffindor was glad that he hadn't been telling a lie because he was certain that the Professor would indeed check with Professor Snape to ensure that he wasn't being played by one of his favorite students.

With that, the diminutive Professor stood atop his pile of cushions to better see the students he was addressing as he began the lecture. "Today we will be learning a rather basic yet useful water Charm. The incantation that I wish you to use is aguamenti . This Charm conjures a fountain or jet of clear water from the caster's wand. This Charm can be used either to provide fresh drinking water, or can be used to put out a raging inferno. I don't need to tell you lot just how handy this Charm might be to you if any of you are unfortunate enough this term to have the need to put out a fire that was started by a foe. This is not the time for me to preach to you about how this Charm can save your lives when you're in the middle of a duel with a death eater; I expect you to be mature enough to pay attention and master this Charm in this lesson. Now partner up and begin." Professor Flitwick s unusually serious tone spurred the class into immediate action. For the first time in Professor Flitwick s tenure as a Hogwarts Professor, his class calmed down and got to work without the usual shenanigans. Apparently his lecture had brought home to the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, just how important the spells, jinxes, hexes, Charms, and transfiguration spells could aid them in the upcoming conflict that many of them would be drug into kicking and screaming. But at least most of the staff were doing their best to prepare their students, even if it meant pointing out the different uses of the spells etc, that they were learning and destroying part of their innocence as they were upfront with the older years in the various manners that say the incendio Charm could be used for by enemies. They needed to be prepared for what could happen regardless what the Ministry and the new DADA Professor said.

xxx

Harry sat on a four-poster bed in the center of a room with green colored walls and smiled as his eyes lit upon the fireplace on the wall to his right. The Gryffindor proclaimed golden boy, waited in anticipation for the man who had arranged to meet him here to arrive.

When the door to the unrecognizable location opened, a beatific grin crossed Harry's face as he looked the man up and down in a highly sensual way. The fair-skinned teen was smoking hot, and somewhere in Harry's brain he recognized the teen from somewhere else, though the boy's true identity eluded him.

"Hey," said the mystery boy kindly. "I see you came dressed for the occasion." The teen's face broke out in a wide grin.

"Uh huh."

Harry's head was cocked to one side as he inquired, "What's that supposed to mean? If you're implying what I think you are, then it looks like you're dressed appropriately too." Harry looked at the hunk before him like he was ready to undress him with his eyes alone right here and now.

"Of course, I'd be a fool if I hadn't," came the boy's cocky reply.

The two teens continued bantering back-and-forth in the same vein for several more moments. As their conversation grew gradually more hot and heavy, they began to shed their clothes. First a silken pajama shirt fell to the floor from the unidentified blond. Then Harry's pajama shirt (which the lad had hardly worn since he slept in the nude most of the time) joined the woven silken shirt on the floor.

Leaning forward, Harry pressed his lips to the other bloke's closed ones. When he failed to gain entrance to the other bloke s mouth, Harry ran his tongue lightly across the other man's lips trying to tease him in the hopes that this would entice the sex god in front of him to deepen the kiss. He wrapped his arms around the slightly muscular body of the person before him, pressing his lips against his more insistently, kneading them with his own, asking silently for permission to deepen the kiss, and his patience was rewarded when he gained entrance to the sweet warm cavern inside. Harry slowly led the sexy boy before him closer and closer to the bed as their snog fest halted momentarily.

Harry gently pushed the beauty in front of him onto the bed and strattled him leaning forward to continue where they had left off before. Harry plunged his tongue into the warm cavern of the other boy's mouth and proceeded to map out every inch of his mouth that tasted faintly of berries. Harry loved berries which made the experience even more erotic.

When they next came up for air, Harry reluctantly moved his mouth from his and instead latched onto his neck. He wanted to enjoy this to the fullest extent, savoring every inch of this boy's exquisite tasting skin. In between nips and licks at the boy's lovely skin, Harry asked, "How far do you want to take this?"

The body beneath him writhed in pleasure which was answer enough.

Harry trailed his way down to the red, hard nipples with hot openmouthed kisses. He took one round bud into his mouth tweaking the other until it hurt slightly to make the experience as pleasurable as possible for the sex-god beneath him. Shouts of "Ah! Fuck!" were the only thing that he could say at the moment. Clearly Harry had the magic touch. Harry's ministrations grew faster and faster at the boy s moans. Harry smiled as he felt the bulge in the boy's silken pajama pants harden. He moved up to his mouth once more.

Before either of them could cool off enough to stop things, Harry started grinding against him. At first, Harry tried to take control of the situation by not allowing him to grind his hips upwards, but this quickly became boring so he removed the hands from the boy which had been preventing him from thrusting upwards only moments before. Even with their bottoms on, enough friction was created that the hotty beneath Harry shouted, "Please don't stop!" And Harry acquiesced to the demand more than willingly. Harry's breaths came increasingly faster as their speed increased, then he shuddered and cried out as his orgasm hit with a vengeance, he collapsed on top of the other boy.

Not wanting to leave the other man before he reached his climax, Harry sucked on the other man's tongue which he had heard was an instant turn-on for men and fisted his hard length through his silken pants, squeezing with some pressure for added affect. Then Harry rubbed his sensitive head with one hand and brought his other hand down to join the first. He proceeded to fist him with one hand pumping furiously, while rubbing small tight circles around the head. Harry grinned as the bloke that was now laying beside him started breathing quicker in pleasure. In no time at all, the mystery guy's pants became wet with a hot pearly liquid.

Harry shot up in bed and flushed in embarrassment as he felt the evidence of his dream cooling on his stomach. Holley mother of Merlin! He had never been so glad in his life that he slept in the buff before. Harry groped blindly for his wand to scourgify himself. It was pathetic that a mere dream could make the savior of the wizarding world realize at last that he was missing something in his life. Yee gods! Their was the real possibility that he could die in a few years and he didn't want to miss a thing, including having a significant other to come to bed with every night. He had made up his mind. He was going to go for it, and couldn't care less if the wizarding world freaked when they finally realized that the Chosen One was gay. If nothing more, when Harry Potter came out , the spectacle would be a circus for sure, hence he would have a source of amusement out of it all. Because the day that Rita passed up such a sensational scoop on the boy-who-lived Harry would bugger Malfoy. It was time he started living his life. But who had the boy been in his dream? Harry had a funny feeling that he knew him, but from where?

xxx

Harry concentrated on staying balanced as he stood on his broom like it was a tight rope with his arms out to the sides, at an altitude way above that of the rest of the Quidditch team who were practicing at a more normal height. He had been more than eager to get to practice this week, what with various issues orbiting around his head, so that he could relax in the fresh air flowing against his skin and mull over some things.

Dumbledore, Snape, and the remedial potions lessons for example. The cancer, however, did not even factor in his contemplations this time, pushed out by the food for thought he had been given over the past week or two about his perceptions of the people around him.

He had considered what to do about Dumbledore and had come to the conclusion that there was nothing he could really do at this moment in time, aside from acting like he was still ignorant and naively loyal. If he started expressing the loss of trust and loyalty to Dumbledore, what would he gain from it except possible interference and hassle in his life as Dumbledore tried to win him back and prevent him from doing anything the old man might not like? It was highly likely that he would. After all, Harry wasn't stupid and he knew that Dumbledore would not want the public thinking he didn't have Harry's support, and he wouldn't like the idea of Harry refusing to do what he was told anymore either.

It would be easier, if it came down to it, to act against Dumbledore's wishes if the man wasn't watching him closely and he wasn't expecting it. Harry would be far more likely to get away with it. What "it" might be Harry was unsure of, but you never know what the future might bring, and Harry doubted that Dumbledore's ideas of what Harry's future would involve and his own ideas of what his future would involve were similar in any way. Especially considering the man didn't know of his cancer, and there was no way in hell that Harry was going to tell him about it either. He couldn't care less what the man's plans for him would be.

The other major reason for his reluctance to call Dumbledore on his lack of action at the knowledge of Harry's abuse was the fact that doing so would involve bringing said abuse up. As far as Harry was concerned, it would be better if no one ever found out what went on at home, and the truth would have to come out if he let his disdain for the leader of the light be known. He couldn't let that happen. Even if doing so meant that he'd have to play along with the Headmaster's plans for the time being and attend the stupid lessons that he was sure would be of little help. For if said lessons were about magical skills and dueling, why all the secrecy? Harry didn't see what Professor Dumbledore could have left to tell him about Tom Riddle. Because wasn't the prophecy the last piece of news that the Headmaster had left to tell him? Their conversation after the events at the Ministry last term seemed to indicate that. Harry would just have to wait and see; whilst playing the role of Dumbledore's loyal naive, little golden boy to the hilt.

Harry took a deep breath of the cool, sharp air and decided he would finish practicing his balance for a few more minutes before sitting back down on his broom to have a few more goes at catching the snitch.

In the meantime he stared up at the clouds and tried to assign each cluster a name based on its shape. The best one he could see at the moment was the unicorn-shaped cloud; however a cauldron-shaped cloud brought his mind once more back to the subject of Snape.

He had made another decision earlier to stick to his previous opinion of the man, one that he had formed in the hospital wing when he spoke to Poppy of the professor's achievement in medical potions, except it was slightly modified. Until the potions lesson resulting in the offer of remedial potions, Harry had a grudging respect for the man and his highly intelligent mind and potions talent, but otherwise disliked him for his seemingly meritless personality. His current opinion would remain more or less the same, though he would keep an open mind and look out for signs of any good qualities hiding under the man's hard exterior. He thought he had seen a hint of that in his clear dedication to the students he found worthwhile.

Harry decided that he had done enough balance practice for today. He didn't actually need it very much as he had managed to get the act of keeping his broom stable as he stood on it, without falling off, down to an art long ago. It was the only reason he was even doing something so dangerous so high up in fact, but he liked to make sure he was keeping on top of things and he loved to be up in the air like this.

Harry looked back down at his broom, ignoring the tiny people on the pitch below him as the Gryffindor team practiced, and went to bend down to once more straddle his broom.

However, as he made this slightly forward and downward movement, something in his perception went funny. It was like everything tilted or shifted and his hands, stretched out to grab his broom, missed their target as a result. Harry felt his stomach lurch as he fell forward, his legs leaving his broom behind as they inevitably followed the rest of his body. He then felt the horrible swooping sensation in his stomach that accompanied his free fall from the spectacular height he had been hovering at, panicking as he went down and yelling out in alarm.

Meanwhile on the ground, the rest of the Quidditch team plus some other Gryffindors messing about on their brooms glanced up and felt their hearts jump into their throats and the blood drain from their faces. The cause of their reaction was, of course, the sight of Harry Potter making quick progress through unimposing air towards the unforgiving grassy floor of the Quidditch pitch.

Dean Thomas was the first to react, with Ron following a close second, leaving the others to stay put, knowing that any more than two people trying to help would only mean they would get in the way instead of actually managing to save Harry. Hermione, who had been chatting to Lavender and Parvati, sprung from her seat at the bottom row of the Quidditch stands and hung over the railing, feeling a surge of adrenaline dash through her system in sheer terror.

Both Dean and Ron flew up towards Harry, and then followed him down when they reached him by keeping their brooms at the speed Harry fell. Dean grabbed Harry's forearms, Ron grabbed his ankles, and as one the pair of boys reversed their broom direction and flew up with everything they had in an effort to counteract the momentum Harry had accumulated as he fell.

They were slowing down but they were still heading towards the land at a worrying rate, and then there was a loud pop as one of Harry's shoulders dislocated at the strain and pressure on his body, causing him to scream out loudly in pain. Dean almost dropped Harry's arms in shock, fright, and guilt that he had hurt Harry, but Ron shouted at him not to let go and Dean's grip tightened around Harry's wrists once more, where his hands had slipped to in the brief moment he had lost it. He knew it would be extremely painful for Harry but it was the lesser of two evils.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled at the realization that they weren't going to slow down enough in time. Hermione whipped out her wand in the blink of an eye and positively flung her arm out in the direction of the ground underneath the trio of falling flyers.

"PENICULUS!" she screamed desperately.

The ground seemed to warp slightly for a second before once more looking completely normal, however it became clear that this was not the case when Harry, Dean, and Ron barreled into it at a damaging speed, only to disappear into the ground in a hollow. It had appeared by the compression of the ground on impact in a manner similar to a sponge, and halted their fall without the damage of hitting a hard surface.

When it seemed like the boys were safe from further damage Hermione raced her way down the stairs of the Quidditch stands and ran over, her heart hammering away in her chest and her breathing rate much quicker than normal in her panic.

All three boys lay panting at the severe scare but were quickly moving once more.

"Harry! Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere else? C'mon mate, speak to me here." Ron questioned frantically, his hand swiping Harry's hair out of his face so he could get a good look at him.

"Shoulder." Harry managed to grind out from behind gritted teeth as his shoulder overwhelmed his brain with millions of messages screaming "PAIN!".

"What's wrong with it?" Hermione's breathless question came as she reached them.

"I think I dislocated it or something!" Dean told her in a slightly hysterical state from the combination of shock, fear, adrenaline, worry, and guilt.

"Right. Okay. Right." Hermione dithered for a few seconds before she managed to pull herself together enough to take action. Dean and Ron disentangled themselves from their brooms as Harry lay on the ground, pale and shocked looking, so that they could help.

Hermione stepped forward and knelt down next to Harry. She then took off her cloak and laid it flat on the ground beside her so that she could cut a large triangle out of the fabric by tracing the tip of her wand over an imaginary outline of the shape.

"Harry, I need you to sit up. Guys, help him please, and be careful with him. Can someone go inform Madame Pomfrey too?" Hermione had calmed down enough to think clearly and had immediately set about making a sling for Harry's arm and thinking about getting him to Madame Pomfrey.

"Parvati's already gone to tell her."

"Thanks Lavender."

"Ah!" Harry yelled out as his shoulder was jostled in the process of sitting him up.

"Oops, sorry Harry!"

"S'fine Ron."

Hermione finished cutting out her makeshift sling and made a start to getting Harry's arm into it, predicting correctly that Harry would strongly protest to the movement of his arm.

"I know it hurts but it's just so we can get it in a sling Harry, then we can get up to the hospital wing." she coaxed until Harry finally let her move his arm into her sling, though she felt guilty when she could see the pain he was in at having to do so. In all honesty she hadn't actually expected that he would let anyone move his arm until Poppy Pomfrey intervened.

"Okay, is everyone definitely okay?" she checked once more as both she and Harry stood up in order to walk to the infirmary.

"We're fine 'Mione. What the hell happened up there anyway Harry? Did someone shoot a spell at you? Were you trying out a new move or something?" Ron both assured Hermione that there were no further injuries and immediately set about finding out just how exactly their current situation had come about while the group of friends made their way into the castle. Over-all, everyone's reactions and been fairly swift and the time taken to sort everything out and have Harry on his way to the infirmary was minimal.

"I don't really know what happened, my eyes just went sort of funny." Harry told Ron confusedly, using his good arm to cradle his bad one. Hermione frowned with a mixture of puzzlement and concern.

"What do you mean? Did you black out?"

"No, it was more like double vision or dizziness. Like, I looked at my broom handle to grab hold of it but when I reached out it turned out that the handle was further left than I thought I'd seen and I actually ended up grabbing at thin air. I couldn't fix my mistake in time to avoid falling." Ron and Hermione exchanged worried looks, though neither could give an immediate answer to what it could be that went wrong.

When the group got into the school only Ron, Hermione, and Harry continued on to see Pomfrey while everyone else said they hoped that Harry's shoulder was fixed up easily and that they'd see him soon. This left Hermione able to voice her thoughts to Ron, who was still confusedly trying to figure out what could have gone wrong with Harry, and Harry, who was rather unconcerned with the issue considering his priority right now was getting his shoulder healed. He couldn't really notice much else with the way the pain demanded his attention.

"Have you been eating properly Harry? And sleeping? Maybe you were dehydrated or exhausted and almost fainted as a result?"

"I don't think so, I felt fine beforehand. And besides, it's not like I faint all the time or something."

"You promise that you've definitely been taking care of yourself Harry? Because I'll know if you're lying, make no mistake." Hermione threatened earnestly.

"'Mione! Honestly, I was fine! I promise!"

"Good then, you don't think ?" Hermione trailed off in slight doubt at her idea.

"Think what?" Ron prompted at her apparent reluctance to continue her sentence.

"Do you think it could have been Voldemort again? Maybe he could tell you were practicing Quidditch and deliberately tampered with your perception in the hopes you would fall off your broom?" Hermione asked Harry gravely.

"Voldemort? I hadn't thought of that. You think he could?" Harry seemed mildly surprised at Hermione's theory.

"I don't know but well, we know he likes to mess with your head Harry, so why not mess with the messages going from your eyes to your brain on what you're seeing? Surely it's not that big a leap from what he already does?" There was silence as Ron and Hermione considered this and worried about just how much Voldemort seemed to be able to affect their friend. At this rate Harry would never have a moment's peace, from the torment or the danger. They would just have to hope that they were wrong and that Voldemort's influence didn't escalate any more, though right now it was the only explanation they could think of for what Harry had described, if he was telling the truth.

As the trio finally made it to the infirmary and a concernedly waiting Madame Pomfrey, Hermione shoved her thoughts out of her head for the present moment. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about such things, but if they got worse she would have to do something. Maybe Dumbledore would know what was going on, and if he did he might also have a way of solving this problem.

"Thank you for bringing him here, I can take over for now if the two of you would like to wait for him." Poppy immediately took charge upon Harry's arrival and sat him down on a bed half way down the wing, closest to the potions cabinet, while Ron and Hermione sat down in the waiting area next to the entrance. It was less an "area" and more like a small gathering of chairs for the purpose of providing people with somewhere to sit out of the way of the healing process.

"What happened then Harry?"

"My eyesight went funny when I was trying to sit back down on my broom and I fell off. Ron and Dean caught me but I dislocated my shoulder from Dean pulling on my arm." Poppy's gaze became sharp instantly.

"Your eyesight? You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"You don't think it could have been exhaustion, heat or lack of energy from food?"

"I'm positive! Honestly, with the way you and Hermione question me you'd think I was an anorexic insomniac or something!"

Poppy simply quirked one edge of her mouth upwards in amusement.

"Right, well let's see to this shoulder then."

Poppy carefully took Harry's arm out of the sling, briefly expressing her approval of whoever had put their knowledge of basic muggle first aid to use. Apparently most magical folk, including highly respected healers and healing researchers, didn't have this knowledge themselves. In fact, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who knew what the recovery position was, let alone when, how or why to use it on someone because they didn't believe it was necessary knowledge when they had magic.

The healing of Harry's shoulder took an interesting combination of spell and potion. The first thing Poppy did was use a spell which caused an effect similar to what you would see if someone had just switched on a lamp inside a thin tent while you were standing on the outside, watching the shadow of the person moving inside against the lit walls of the tent. Harry's shoulder also seemed to light up from inside, and the shadows of the separated joint could be seen against the illuminated skin.

Once Poppy could clearly make out the position of each part of the relevant bones she would be working with, she fetched two thick potions that had been poured into small tubs to harden into two differently colored creams. One was pure black, the other pure white, but both had what looked like tiny streams of blue magic or electricity no wider than a strand of hair striking its way throughout regularly.

Poppy applied one cream to the edge of Harry's misshapen shoulder over the shadow created by the end of the arm bone, which was currently separated from the rest of his skeleton. The other cream was applied to the corresponding half of the damaged joint, leaving a space between each of the colored creams where the gap was from the dislocation.

Once the creams had been absorbed by Harry's skin all it took from Poppy was some guidance by her gentle hands as the two parts of Harry's shoulder joint seemed to attract back together. It was as though they had been magnetized.

"All right Harry, try some of the movements I'm making with my arm for me, it might twinge a little, which is okay, but there should be no particularly pressing pain as there was an added pain-relief component in those creams. If anything doesn't feel right in any way I need you to tell me. Okay?"

After a nod from Harry and some rather ridiculous arm-waving, Harry's shoulder was proclaimed healed.

"Alright Harry, stay there for a second while I tell your friends they'll need to go back to their common rooms now."

"Can't I leave with them? My shoulder feels fine now; I thought you said it was alright?"

"Your shoulder is better now but once the pain-killer wears off it'll start to hurt more. Besides, I need to do some more tests I think. I'll be back in just a second." Poppy bustled over to Ron and Hermione and after a short conversation Harry's friends left looking relieved if not slightly disappointed that they had to leave Harry behind.

"I take it I'm staying here tonight then?" Harry asked as his eyes followed his healer's progress back to his bedside, though it sounded less like a question and more like a statement.

"I'm afraid so Harry." Poppy sounded apologetic but Harry just smiled when he heard the sympathetic tone to her voice.

"Its fine, I don't really mind. I kind of like it here anyway I suppose. It's more peaceful than the dorm that's for sure, and I can take as long as I want in the shower in the morning since there's no one else waiting to get in before breakfast starts."

"Glad to hear it." Poppy smiled back, pleased to know Harry didn't hate staying in the hospital wing with her. Most of the students couldn't stand it and so were constantly trying to escape before they were fully healed as a result.

"So, what kind of tests are you talking about?"

"Well, I have a fair idea of what happened to your eyes but I want to make absolutely sure that it's a possibility I should consider."

"What do you think happened?" Harry's head tilted very slightly to the side, as it often did when he was thinking about something he was rather curious about.

"Let's not get into that just now, it might not even be true. We'll just see what these tests show first and then we can go from there." Harry sighed in a way that spoke of long suffering.

"Fine, but I'm telling you, I'm perfectly, totally, completely, well-and-truly fine. Seriously."

The healer did not answer Harry but instead pulled out her wand and tapped Harry lightly on the head with it, incanting "Impleomador". She then slashed it through the air from right to left unexpectedly, causing Harry to jump a little in surprise. This alarm was quickly forgotten however when the tip of Poppy's wand left a trail of tiny, floating sparks in its wake. The majority of the sparks were blue but there were other, less common colors amongst them, sparkling away like pieces of glitter. When Poppy seemed happy enough with her examination she lowered her wand and the beautiful magic faded.

"Wow. What does that do?"

"It's a way of finding out how hydrated you are, or dehydrated as the case may be." Poppy was pulling out a tiny bottle containing no more than a mouthful of potion from the potions cabinet as she spoke.

"This is a measure of fatigue levels. I'm going to get you to take it in a moment and depending on how well rested you are, it will take you between 1 and 10 seconds for you to fall asleep. You will only sleep for roughly 3 seconds but I can get an exhaustion level for you on a scale of 1 to 10. It takes less time for the potion to take effect the more tired you are, so 1 second would mean you are completely exhausted, 10 would mean you are 100% fully rested. Do you understand?"

At Harry's nod of confirmation Poppy handed over the potion and motioned for Harry to lie down on the bed.

"How do people come up with this stuff? Honestly, I can't understand anything in potions. I think it'd be a pretty cool career though, making up lots of weird and wonderful things. Interesting anyway, or, at least I assume it would be if I could understand it. It must be if they come up with stuff like this." Harry commented, eyeing the potion through the glass bottle as though if he stared long enough it would do something interesting. He pulled the cork out of the top of the bottle finally and tipped it into his mouth. He shuddered at the raw-egg texture dripping like gloop or slime down his throat and waited to fall asleep.

When Harry woke up 11 seconds later Poppy sighed sadly and sat on the bed next to Harry. She had hoped she was wrong but it would seem she was destined to be disappointed and, for once, thoroughly disheartened by her accuracy. Without beating around the bush Poppy immediately begun explaining to Harry what she believed had caused the alteration in his perception and resulting fall from his broom.

"Harry, I'm afraid I think it's highly probable that your brain tumor was what was affecting your vision. I know it sounds bad but I had hoped on some level that you had simply fainted through a combination of lack of sleep and lack of nutrients from food, but the tests showed that you're fairly well rested and generally healthy. It's time that we had that talk. We'll look at things from both sides of the fence even though it'll be more depressing to do it that way, because you need to decide here and now what you're going to do. It's time to roll the dice. The question is, are you really and truly ready to do it? This'll more than likely be the hardest decision you'll ever have to make, and I'm really sorry that your parents aren't here to stand beside you regardless which option you choose. Though, don't feel alone, because I'll be beside you every step of the way." Poppy reached out and took her most cooperative patient's hand in support for the intense conversation that they were about to have.

"I hadn't expected more symptoms other than your headaches just yet, not with the potions you've been taking anyway. So I'm worried about whether or not the time-scale I estimated for you was correct or not.

"Either way, it was about time I spoke to you more seriously about the symptoms you are likely to experience, especially considering some are apparently already showing up. Speaking of which I'm really sorry but I think it's best you quit your flying, for Quidditch or for any other reason. There's just no way we can guarantee you would be safe if something similar to what happened today were to happen again. Do you understand?"

A/N: Let me know what you thought of the chapter. Did you think that the Professors ought to be educating the students of the more sinister uses for spells so that they can be prepared? And who is the mystery guy? This was my first smut scene. Let me know how I did so I can decide if I need to change or alter the scenes in any way when I write them in the future. I haven't came across many fics where Harry's the top so I decided to write one, but if Malfoy is the bloke, they might have to come to a compromise. Lol

How do you like my little teaser statement about Rita and what Harry would never do?


	5. Chapter 5: Victim or Victor

Diagnosis

Disclaimer: Don t own Harry or Draco because if I did they d get up to far more fun than JKR would ever tolerate.

A/N: A big thanks goes out to all of you who have read and/or reviewed my fic: your feedback is really appreciated.

Hang on tight and keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times; it s going to be a bumpy ride.

Chapter 5: Victim, Or Victor?

Harry took a few seconds to take in Poppy's words. The issue of how much time he had left and the issue of a complete flying ban were in combat for his initial attention but in the end it was his life that won the battle, as it should have.

"Right what do you mean by timescale? Are you saying I might not even have two years left now?"

"Well, I'm not going to give you any definite answers because there's always the possibility that I'm wrong. And of course, if you seek treatment, all of the variables change. If you decide on palliative care only then I think that the best course of action is to keep you on your potions for now and see if any more symptoms, other than sore heads, appear a second time. If anything does I'll re-do all of the tests we did in the beginning to get an idea of how far advanced your cancer truly is and see what we come up with. However, I do recommend that we contact a certain world-renound magical oncologist as we agreed we d take into consideration when the time came. If ever there was an appropriate time for such drastic measures to be undertaken as muggle radiation, this would be it. You asked me to be completely honest with you about matters concerning your survival rate and I m doing as you requested of me. You re the best seeker Hogwarts has seen since Charlie Weasley, and when Gryffindor s star seeker starts seeing double as you put it, it s high time that something be done. The longer we wait, the worse your chances for survival become. Even as little as a week could make a difference of whether you live or die. All I can do is perform tests to determine how advanced the cancer is once the symptoms start worsening, and if we take that route, you ll be terminal, unless of course, you trust my judgment in choosing the best potions master to brew your potions and the healer best equipped to treat you, then you will have a fighting chance, so I ll leave the decision up to you; the quaffel is in your court now. Poppy had done her duty as a Medi-witch and informed her patient of his options, now all she could do is wait and hope that he chose to fight this cancer like Voldemort himself was after him. Poppy barely held in a chuckle at that, because Voldemort really was after him. The irony of her thoughts had amused her at a highly inconvenient time.

Harry just nodded half-heartedly, his eyes unfocused as he tried to make sense of these most recent developments.

"Okay, so what kind of stuff should I look out for and if I seek treatment, are the symptoms the same?

"As for your second question, I m not sure, though I suspect that more symptoms are to be expected with the treatment than without, but without it, you probably won t live to see your graduation. However, there are many possible symptoms depending on where exactly in the brain a tumor is. I have an information leaflet that lists them for you."

Poppy climbed out of her seat and walked across to the small desk she had where she pulled a folded piece of paper from the top drawer. She closed the drawer and walked back over to her seat, holding out the piece of paper for Harry to take once she was within reach.

Harry unfolded the plain leaflet with trepidation. Just what was going to happen to him? He had avoided the subject until now but there was no denying the bubble of nerves in his stomach at the thought of all of the weird and wonderful things he might end up going through. Finally the paper was pulled flat and all of the terrifying words were exposed. Harry's eyes skimmed over what he considered irrelevant and focused entirely on the many, long lists of symptoms

- Behavioral, mental and emotional changes (e.g. disinhibition)

- Impaired sense of smell

- Memory loss

- Paralysis on one side of the body

- Vision loss and inflammation of the optic nerve

- Impaired speech

- Seizures

- Drowsiness

- Headaches, especially in the morning

- Hearing loss

- Muscle weakness on one side of the face (e.g. head tilt, crooked smile)

- Muscle weakness on one side of the body

- Vomiting

- Nausea

- Lack of recognition

- Difficulty speaking and swallowing

- Inability to write

- Incontinence

The list went on but Harry didn't think he wanted to read anymore just now, not in front of Poppy. Maybe when he got back to the dorm room and had some privacy to fully register the realization that, as far as he could see, according to this list, he would more or less be incapable of doing anything eventually. His breath escaped him in one long, depressed and slightly surprised sigh.

"Wow that's a lot of stuff. What's incontinence?"

"It's more or less the loss of control over when and where you go to the toilet."

"Oh. Ewe. I hope that doesn't happen to me what's going to happen if the more obvious stuff happens though? Like not being able to write, I can't really keep going to classes if I can't write. Is there a way of hiding stuff like that?"

"Not really, no. If it's going to happen then it will. The question is just when. I understand you want to keep everything a secret, Harry, but as you're no doubt realizing, that won't be possible, not for very long anyway. Don't you think it would be more sensible to tell everyone yourself instead of having them figure it out when they witness the symptoms on that list?"

" No?"

Poppy just raised her eyebrows at him in response, causing Harry to sigh again, this time in resignation.

"I know, I know. I'm just I still don't think I'm ready to tell anyone yet. I don't feel like I have a good enough grip on it yet. I know it's there but it's not like it's really obvious. I don't feel like I have cancer this isn't making much sense is it? Urgh. I just need more time. I will tell them, I just don't want to have to deal with it yet is all.

"I understand Harry. I'll be there for you when you feel like you're ready to let people know. Try not to worry too much if and when any of these symptoms show up in the meantime. I have something for you that will work as a form of communication when you're in need of me but I won't give it to you just now; I need to discuss it with you in more depth before we decide whether or not to use it. I think I'll just leave that for tomorrow."

"Right, thanks Poppy." Harry leaned over and gave the woman a brief hug to show his gratitude but didn't ask about this mysterious form of communication. He didn't think he could take anything else in right now. In fact, he was feeling practically exhausted all of a sudden; Harry wanted nothing more than to just climb under the covers and get some serious resting done.

"Do you mind if I just go to sleep? I guess the fall took a lot out of me."

Harry flashed a wan smile but both healer and patient knew that Harry's sudden need to sleep had nothing to do with the fall and more to do with Poppy's warnings about his life's timescale and the danger of continuing to fly and his resistance to all things that have to do with the time he has left, including seeking help from a healing professional. Poppy knew Harry would find it difficult to accept everything she had told him. Some time alone to think it all over was what he wanted, and time alone was what he would get.

"Alright Harry. Don't forget to brush your teeth and clean up before you go to sleep though."

Poppy stood up and smoothed the mess of hair on the back of Harry's head down in a gesture of affection before returning to her office. Harry, meanwhile, let a small smile ghost over his lips at the mothering aura Poppy had embodied as she left, though it vanished fairly quickly. Finally alone to think he burrowed under the covers and snuggled up comfortably in the soft quilts and sheets, and plump pillows that his head sank into satisfyingly.

How was he supposed to get by without flying? There was the obvious problem with boredom now that he was permanently grounded; he had a lot of time he normally spent on a broom to fill in now. He would have to quit the Quidditch team too, and the thought of the angry and disappointed expressions of his team-mates, especially Ron's, made him dread having to face them in the future about it.

On the plus side, Poppy hadn t ordered him to cease all strenuous activities just yet, so he could start up the DA again. It would help fill the empty block of time that he usually spent flying and would give him something to live for. If for no other reason than that, he thought, the DA would be reborn. Wizards and witches had to learn to defend themselves somehow now that he might not always be around to save the day now the question remained, how was he going to bring it up to his friends and avoid telling Hermione everything in the process?

Unfortunately he would have dealt with that kind of upset by going for a whirl on his broom ordinarily. It was like everything became simplified the second he broke away from the restraints of gravity. His head became as clear as the air that encompassed him, allowing him to look at a problem in a much more relaxed and calm way. This generally produced far better results than when he was on land and in direct contact with the world that had upset him in the first place. Sometimes it was nice to break away from it all and float on air, detached from everything not just physically but mentally as well.

This particular perk to flying had been learned over time but there was a deeper, more fundamental connection to flying that had been born the very first time he flew. Before then Harry had felt more than a little out of place in the vibrant, yet intimidatingly complicated, culture of the wizarding world. He couldn't help but feel utterly ignorant and useless to a society that, at the time, seemed like something only found in the dreams and fairytales of little children.

But then came his undeniable success at flying (and later Quidditch) and he finally knew that this was his home. He belonged in the wizarding world. He was wanted and needed here, whether it was just for his skill on a broom (which in his mind proved he was worthy of being counted a wizard) or for more than that. Harry practically equated his connection to flight with his connection to the wizarding world. What use was he if he couldn't fly?

Harry frowned at his own last thought and stomped on his 11-year-old-self logic. He knew better than that now. He may no longer be able to bring Gryffindor to Quidditch success but that didn't change the fact that he belonged in this world of magic and was more than needed. Possibly more than anyone else

Before Harry's thoughts could descend any further into the subject of Voldemort and the prophecy his mind finally quieted down for the night and he slept.

Harry woke up at seven thirty the next morning thanks to a well-trained body clock. After spending years getting up early to get on with the housework at the Dursleys' Harry now found that he just couldn't sleep right on through until late morning (or early afternoon even) like his dorm mates did at every opportunity they got.

His attention wandered slightly in the moment between dreams and reality until it found a subject to focus on in the form of Poppy, who was obviously also just up as she was half way through her morning routine and still dressed in her night clothes.

"Is that you awake now Harry? Your friends will be here for you soon, you'd best get up and ready or you'll miss breakfast. Goodness knows you've missed enough meals as it is."

Harry groaned and rolled over, pulling the quilts up to tuck tightly under his chin. He really couldn't be bothered with anything right now, and the last thing he felt like doing was getting up and attempting to go about his life like everything was normal when clearly it wasn't.

He had freaking cancer for Pete's sake! He'd only barely found out and already it was putting in an appearance and ruining his life, as if to say 'Don't think you can forget about me, your life is mine now!'

So what was the point in getting up? He would much rather just sleep thank you very much. He would probably be equally as effective lying there as he would have been getting up and going about his life anyway. You know, in the way that didn't count as living, just existing. That was what he normally did.

That was all he had done with his entire life really. Sure he had defeated a dark lord and killed a basilisk and all of those other things that most people would exclaim over, but all of that had just happened to him, none of it was in his control, and that was what Harry wanted more than anything else now.

He wanted to have the final say in his life. He wanted to have decided exactly what he felt like doing with it, and then have gone ahead and done precisely what he had said he would. Then he would have lived his life the way he chose to, the way he wanted to, rather than merely existing the way things were according to other people and events.

Wouldn't it be better to live by his own choice of path rather than the way the flow of life dictated he went? Maybe most people would kill to live their lives the way he did before they died, but they at least would have a choice in that case. Harry, however, had never had a choice in pretty much any aspect of his life, and now that it could be coming to a close he felt like he had wasted it by allowing himself to float in whatever direction the current took him. Instead he should have been assertive enough to plant his feet firmly in place to decide if he wanted to continue, or if he wanted to go against the flow, against the current that tugged at him.

But he hadn't done that, and now he had to live the last year or two of his life knowing he had wasted it. So what was the point of bothering to get up now, it was too late to do anything anyway. It was too late to struggle against the flow that had led him to where he was in life, so he might as well just lie here and wait for the last little drop of his life to eventually evaporate.

"Come on Harry, up!" Poppy bustled over to his bed in the same way she seemed to bustle everywhere while Harry opened one eye and blinked at her blearily.

"Can't I just stay in here today please?" He mumbled. Poppy frowned slightly.

"Is your shoulder hurting badly?" she asked, thinking there must still be something wrong with it.

"No. It's just a little sore when I move it or bump it, but its fine overall. I just don't really feel up to school and everything else today is all." was Harry's understated reply, his eyes resting on the bedclothes as Poppy bit her lip in uncertainty.

From Harry's explanation and body language she could tell he just wanted to hide away and that he was feeling depressed after last night's talk, she just didn't know what to do about it. Should she let him stay, and therefore be letting him wallow in despair and hopelessness over his situation? Or make him go to classes and try to avoid giving him the chance to do so?

But if she did that there was no guarantee that he wouldn't feel that way anyway, and so it would be like she was just ignoring his feelings and his need for some time to get used to the way the rest of his life would be from now on.

Finally she decided she would let him have today off only, after that she expected him back into the swing of things around Hogwarts, hopefully feeling a little better about everything.

"Just for today, I guess you can stay off."

"Thanks, Poppy. Really. Do you mind telling Ron and Hermione when they come that I'm staying off for today?"

"Sure. Go back to sleep if you want, I'll wake you up later for something to eat." And with that, Poppy had made the executive decision; she was going to contact Healer Robertson. Since Poppy had hardly had experience with cancer patients in her tenure as a medi-witch at Hogwarts, she didn t know what the best course of action would be to help Harry out of this deep pit of darkness he seemed to be trapped in currently. But surely Healer Robertson would have some advice for her. Yes she would be in a sense betraying Harry s trust in doing so, but sometimes, like in abuse cases, it needed to be done in the best interest of the patient, and Poppy firmly believed that this was one of those times. She left Harry to his own devices and went into her office to floo St. Mongo s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. At least after she had spoken to someone with a greater store of knowledge of cancer than herself, she could tell Harry something more concrete after he saw his friends.

Lunchtime that day found Harry waking up once more to find Hermione sitting on the bed next to him, giggling conspiringly as she tickled his nose lightly with the tip of her quill.

She cooed; "Wakey wakey, sunshine! We brought you a tuna salad sandwich!"

"Is there mayo on it?" Harry questioned, his voice slightly hoarse with lingering sleepiness as he rubbed his nose and pushed himself up to sit against the headboard slowly.

"Yep. Honestly Harry, after the way you complained last time about how you hated dry food there's no way I'm ever giving you anything to eat again unless it has some form of sauce or gravy on it." Hermione toed off her plain, black flat-shoes and climbed fully onto the bed next to Harry. Once she was settled with her back to the headboard alongside Harry and with her legs straight out in front of her, crossed at the ankles, she handed him his sandwich.

"Thanks."

"So, how's your shoulder?"

"Much better. You know how Poppy is, she could heal practically anything in three seconds flat."

Ron snorted and sat down on a chair placed next to the bed.

"Yeah, unless you're Draco Malfoy. Then it takes months of painful spells and potions before you're better, even if it's just a scratch!"

Harry snickered in agreement and nibbled his sandwich unenthusiastically.

"Seriously though mate, I'm glad you're alright. The team had a bit of a panic last night about you maybe not being able to compete for the cup if you'd hurt yourself too badly, especially since we don't really have a reserve seeker to stand in for you. We'd have to pull Ginny out of her position as chaser and get her to do it, since she's the only one who's even slightly close to having any talent at the position. Then we'd need someone else to play chaser instead of her, but then we'd technically have two weaker players on the pitch but everything's fine, thanks to Pomfrey there's no worries now! The team will be happy to hear it."

Ron grinned happily and clapped Harry's nearest shoulder twice, which was thankfully the uninjured one.

"Erm about that Ron " Ron's face immediately fell.

"Aw, no! You've got to be joking with me! I thought you said everything was fine?"

"Everything is fine, but Poppy has banned me from flying altogether now. She says it's too dangerous to risk the same thing happening again, especially since I can't expect you guys to rescue me all the time. I'm really sorry mate, honestly I am. If I could be out there flying with you, you know I'd be there in a second. I just can't afford to anymore is all "

Ron's horror seemed to settle down slightly at Harry's explanation in order to make way for a grudgingly understanding acceptance, though he still sighed in resignation and slight annoyance.

"Nah, its cool Harry. She's right after all. Better to lose a Quidditch game than have you smash your head in when you start seeing double, or whatever it was that happened to you. I guess we'll just have to make Ginny our seeker."

There was a short, disappointed silence, which Ron broke. He was already thinking about how best to manage this blow to his Quidditch team.

"Actually, do you think that it would be better to find someone else to play seeker, who is probably not very good at all, and only have one really weak member of the team? That way, if we train hard enough, I think we could manage to score enough points that a crappy seeker won't matter, and we could win despite the other team's seeker catching the snitch."

"It depends how safe you want to play it, I guess. It would be a safer bet just to have Ginny as seeker and use a reserve chaser because then we know that, while they are the weaker players on the team in those positions, they at least have some skill. Definitely enough to get by, maybe enough to win. But if you go for a new seeker and keep Ginny as chaser it's more of an all or nothing kind of deal. Either you tare the other team to shreds or you crash and burn, badly."

"I suppose, I'll talk it over with the rest of the team and see what they think. I'm leaning more towards using Ginny as seeker though. It's just, I hate the thought of Malfoy's face if he catches the snitch in our game, and if we use Ginny, and she manages to catch the snitch, we won't have to put up with his pointy face lording it over us like he'd beaten Viktor Krum or something." Ron's nose wrinkled in distaste at the thought of Malfoy boasting about how he finally managed to catch the snitch against Gryffindor. They'd never hear the end of it.

"Speaking of Malfoy, Ginny told us what you were saying about him that time you punched Corner. Did you really mean all of that?" Hermione cut in quickly when she saw the perfect opening to steer the boys away from anymore Quidditch talk.

"Of course I did, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't. Why?"

"Well you have to admit Harry, it's kind of strange that you said you don't hate him or think he's a bully considering how he treats us. I mean, you say you don't mind him but you always get into fights with him."

"I know, but our rivalry isn't serious, is it? I mean I've met people like Wormtail and Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange, who have all done horrible things in their lifetime. They've killed who knows how many people, Bella has tortured people until they don't even recognize their own kids, and Wormtail betrayed extremely close friends, just because he didn't have enough balls to stand up to anyone that so much as looked at him the wrong way. To make things worse they plan on killing even MORE people, ruining more lives, and spreading more hate and prejudice and they all want me dead, preferably in the most painful way possible. So, I deal with people like that, and then I come back here and find the worst person I could run into, apart from Snape maybe, is Malfoy. It just puts things into perspective a little.

"I mean, think about it, what's Malfoy ever actually done? Has he killed someone? Betrayed someone? Tortured someone? No. He doesn't deserve my hatred. No more than I deserve his anyway, because, let's face it, if your reason for hating him is because you think he's an assehole in general, based on how he treats us, then you should hate me too, since I'm just as much a dick to him as he is to me. We're no different. If you look at it from his and his friends' point of view, we're the bad guys who treat them like crap and so they hate us back."

Ron just looked at Harry as though waiting for him to add a 'But !" to his explanation which would more or less take back what he had already said. Hermione, meanwhile, wore the same expression she wore in classes, the one that meant she was giving the subject her full attention and concentration to consider what was being said.

"Look, what I'm trying to say is that I don't argue with Malfoy because I hate him or anything, because I really don't. I argue with him because sometimes he pisses me off and he pushes all the wrong buttons with me whenever he sees me. I argue with him because I don't like sitting by and not saying anything while he walks off and thinks he's got one over on me just because he took the piss and I didn't say anything back. Sometimes I even argue with him just because I'm really angry and stressed out; it's a great stress reliever to let it all go by just going mental and shouting at him like we sometimes end up doing. It's kind of fun, really. A bit like a sport. Or a personal challenge. It keeps me on my toes. You know? He keeps things interesting if it ever gets a bit boring around here.

"Although, to be honest, by now I think its more habit than anything else. I don't even think about it anymore. He says something to me, I say something back and it goes from there. It's like Hogwarts wouldn't be complete without an argument or fight of some kind with Malfoy thrown in there too. That's all it is to me, it's like a normal, every-day experience that I'm used to but I don't really feel bothered about. I don't walk around thinking about how much I hate him or something. I think it's the same for him as well."

" Sometimes I know it sounds pathetic but with so much going on in my life I like being able to fall back on Malfoy. I mean, my fights with him. It's just so predictable; he's like the one thing that never seems to change around here. Sometimes I need to have something to hold on to, you know. Have you heard the saying 'It's better the devil you know'? I suppose it's kind of like that idea. By the way, if you ever tell anyone that, I might just have to kill you. Can't have Malfoy thinking I actually like him or something, heaven forbid."

Harry's friends took a moment longer to fully digest Harry's words, producing a rather substantial silence which was finally broken by Hermione.

"Oh. Well, first of all, Harry, just remember that if you need someone to ground you Ron and I will do anything we can do to help, okay? As for Malfoy I suppose that's kind of true really. I mean the bit you said about it being put into perspective when you compare Malfoy to Wormtail or someone else like him. It's quite an interesting thought actually; I'd never considered it like that before. He really is just simply a teenager, acting up in school, and really, that's not evil is it? It's not important with people like the Death Eaters out there. He might even grow out of it possibly "

Hermione had taken Harry's reasoning and utterly run with it, getting rather enthusiastic as her brain went about figuring everything out and coming to it's conclusions.

"When did you come to start thinking like that though? No offence Harry, but I didn't exactly have you pinned as someone who thought very deeply about stuff like that."

"I can't remember exactly when I started thinking like that, but you're right, that wasn't always my opinion.

"It was during one summer, that I know for sure, because I remember that what started me off thinking about it was being around some of the people from my old school. They reminded me of how much I hate prejudice and judgment more than anything else. It does horrible things to people.

"Out of that thought I eventually came to realize that people judged Slytherin all the time, including myself. Apart from Malfoy, can you think of anyone in Slytherin you don't like for a valid reason that you can actually pinpoint and explain? I felt like the biggest assehole in the world then, and I promised to myself that I would never let myself be taken in by stereotypes and illogical, unfair judgments again. Although, by then it was a bit late to try and show Malfoy that I didn't care what everyone else thought, we were already established as rivals. But I stopped hating Malfoy. I kind of felt sorry for him really."

" Right I still think Malfoy's a bit of a prick though. I can't believe you actually feel sorry for him Harry. I don't care how hated the 'poor things' are, I still can't believe they're nice, not until I see it for myself. They ask to be hated with the way they treat people." Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Ron, you can be so childish sometimes! Honestly, I think it's a good thing that Harry actually thought about how they must feel sometimes, it shows maturity and empathy."

"What? How is that fair? Just because I don't want to give them the benefit of the doubt doesn't mean I'm immature! Did it occur to you that maybe Harry is just being na ve? I'm not saying I'll hate all Slytherins forever you know, just that I don't like the ones I know and I'll believe they're nice only if I get proof. That's perfectly reasonable! Besides, I think we're over-looking the biggest problem with them all; is everyone forgetting that they're on Voldemort's side?" Harry groaned, almost embarrassed at Ron's argument for hating Slytherins, and it appeared that Hermione felt the same way as him when she asked him incredulously, "Ron, you didn't seriously just say that, did you?"

Harry also chipped in, his voice tuned to disbelief, "Ron, have you seen with your own eyes a dark mark on any of them? You can't just go around accusing people like that! That's a serious thing to say about someone these days, you can't just go throwing it around like that! Just because they have dark backgrounds doesn't mean they're dark themselves, look at Sirius! He hated his family and wanted nothing to do with the dark side, but his family was among those with the worst reputation, and I know for a fact he went around school doing much worse things to people than any of our Slytherins do. Plus, half of Slytherin don't even belong to dark families!"

Ron blushed as Harry shot his argument to pieces with actual examples of how he was wrong.

"Okay, I get it, no need to explode! I forgot about Sirius I guess."

And while we re on the topic of all Slytherins being evil scum or not, said Harry seriously, figuring that since Ron was already good and riled up already and it couldn t hurt for him to hear what he had to say, Harry continued with a look of determination on his face. Do you reckon we should start up the DA this year? Since I can t play Quidditch, I might as well be doing something useful for a change.

Hermione beamed, because Harry had spared her the awkwardness of having to bring it up herself yet again. Ron however, didn t look so happy. If Harry had to hazard a guess as to what had Ron s knickers in a wad still, he would bet 5 galleons that the red-head was still hacked off about the whole Slytherin thing. And what he had to say next would hardly improve the ginger s mood one iota.

I think that we should invitetheSlytherins to the first meeting, said Harry in a rush.

Ron tapped his ear faining deafness and stated brazenly. Huh, I thought I just heard you say that we should invite the junior death eaters to the meeting and train them how to best defeat the light side singlehandedly.

Hermione bopped Ron upside the head for his sheer idiocy.

Ronald Weasley, said Hermione incredulously. In case you ve forgotten, Prof-

Ron cut off Hermione rather rudely. Don t you dare defend Snape. Since when has he shown true loyalty to our side?

He s got to keep up a front, said Harry speaking as if to a rather dim-witted child. If he doesn t treat me lik screw-up on occasion and Draco like he s Merlin s gift to wizarding kind, then one of old snake face s sycophants will find out from their children, who are by the way in class with Hermione and I and Professor Snape will be thrown to the wolves. The Order needs him in order to win this war. And if I can prevent even one of the potential future death eaters from joining Tom s side then it ll be worth my while.

Ron looked thoroughly chastised by his friend s rather ruthless lecture on proper decorum. Maybe their conversation had done some good after all.

The other day when I was hanging out here, said Harry. I met this first year girl, and Madame Pomfrey showed me how to patch her up. We struck up a conversation; she s a Slytherin who s an innocent in this war, do you honestly think that she deserves to be lumped in with all the rest of them in the eyes of the wizarding world? What has she done to deserve the scorn of others?

Before the friends could talk any further about the Slytherins or the possibility that they were just as normal and capable of being good people, as well as mean, as they were, or who should or shouldn t be invited to join the DA, the bell to signal five minutes till their next class rang.

Ron left feeling confused and stupid since he hadn't been able to look at the bigger picture of the Slytherins without his friends having to point it all out to him. He promised himself he would think about it all in much more depth and at least try to see where everyone else was coming from. He wanted to think it all over and come to his own conclusions about whether or not what Harry and Hermione were saying was true after honestly considering everything. If he was proven wrong then he would just have to accept it. That was always the hardest part about trying not to go back to the old, self-absorbed Ron admitting when he was wrong.

Hermione, meanwhile, left feeling a new resolve that she would be much more tolerant to any Slytherins that bothered her, and more accepting and friendly to all other Slytherins. Harry was right after all, no one ever thought twice about how the Slytherins were actually the ones who got the hardest time around here. It was about time someone put a stop to it. She wasn't stupid enough to think that things would instantly change, but she was a firm believer in the ripple effect, where one small word or action could grow into something bigger. And she was going to be the one to cast the first stone and cause said rippling by spreading the word to those Slytherins who she deemed either impressionable enough to sway away from becoming cannon fodder, i.e. (any first through third years who wished to join) or those who she knew to be neutral and invite them to come to the Great Hall on Saturday between the hours of ten and twelve to hear what Harry had to say. Since that Edgecombe girl had broken the contract last term, Hermione would have to draft a new contract with more convoluted wording to ensure that their organization would become snitch proof. She would fill in Harry and Ron later, but for now, Hermione was on a mission and no one could stop her. She made it through classes that day by the skin of her teeth due to the cogs and wheels turning incessantly in her brain, but the end goal was worth a few unanswered questions in class.

Maybe she couldn't unite all of the houses and live in harmony together with everyone treating each other with respect, but she could at least plant the concept into the minds of others that it was a possibility that they could get on with people outside of their own groups.

Once Harry's friends had left he placed his barely touched sandwich on the bedside table and made to settle down to sleep some more.

Before he got any further than grabbing his quilt though, Poppy approached him and sat down on the bed in the spot Hermione had recently vacated. In her hands she held a simple, obviously masculine, silver watch with a face that displayed the first twelve roman numerals.

"Harry, do you remember that communication device I spoke of to you last night?"

Harry sighed and replied, though only as a reluctant participant of the conversation. He couldn't care less anymore about the stupid symptoms or how he would deal with them. When they came, they came, and then he would die. And from the sounds of it, the radiation could kill him faster than the cancer would. As far as Harry Potter was concerned, it was a lose lose situation, either way, he might very well be facing his own death in the near future, so why prolong the suffering? He could accomplish what he wanted in the time he had left rather than be bedridden until his dying day. It was as simple as that. What was the point in complicating things?

"Yeah."

"Well, this is the device I was talking about. You just lift up the latch that the face of the watch is on, almost like a locket, see? Underneath it doesn't look like anything is there but the material inside has been soaked in a special potion which will emit a wave of unseen magic when it comes into contact with a certain person.

"Originally, this was used by people who perhaps had a family member, like a mother, grandparent or child, who was very sick and in need of constant attention. Obviously people can't spend every second of their lives watching their sick loved ones, and so they used this as a kind of alarm which the sick person would carry around. If there was an emergency, or they needed help, the sick person would open the watch face, or locket, or whatever the device was, and touch the potion contained inside. On contact the potion would let out a wave of the persons magical signature, which the caretaker would feel and know that their charge needed their help.

"I thought it might be useful to you since I can't be with you all the time. After all, if you want to keep things a secret then you can't just tell someone nearby what is wrong with you and to go fetch me. If we were to use it then only I would be sensitive to the wave of magic the potion creates, anyone else might sense something momentarily but nothing major.

"That is where the problem comes in, however. In order for the potion to work I have to be extremely familiar with your magic and I need to keep myself open to the wave of magic the potion will produce. You see, every wizard and witch is born with a kind of protective barrier around the magic within their bodies which prevents their magic from being so easily accessible to everyone, and so that they themselves won't be over-whelmed by the magic of everyone else bombarding their senses. A person's magic is a very personal thing as well. To allow anyone to feel your magic is something only done between those who are very close. It would be like getting married, or adopting a child you have fostered for a long time, or even the act of sex between lovers. It is an intimate process. That is why your friend Luna Lovegood can often appear rather strange. The experimental accident that killed her mother also destroyed the protective barrier around her magic, so she is constantly connecting to the natural magic around her. She finds it very difficult to function normally sometimes, and we do keep a close eye on her but her case is extremely rare. There is little known about how to deal with it. We do what we can though, obviously.

"But anyway, because of the close relationship typically involved in this kind of process, I will completely understand if you decide you don't want to use this method of communication. Don't feel like you have to say yes because my feelings will be hurt if you say no. After all it is almost unprecedented for this device to be used outside of close family relationships for a reason. Do you want to consider it?"

Poppy waited patiently for an answer but all Harry could think of to say was 'What's the point though? It'll never make a difference in the end!' Admittedly it might reduce his suffering in some indirect way but Harry would rather not suffer at all thank you very much. He wished he could just skip the long battle with his body that he faced and die immediately, while he still had an arguably half-decent quality of life. Maybe Poppy would understand she would surely have a method of humanely euthanizing him; she wouldn't want him to suffer after all.

"Harry?"

Harry had sat there without answering for so long that Poppy had to prompt him out of his depressing daze. He decided that it couldn't hurt to ask, right?

"Poppy, isn't there a way I could speed this process up?" Poppy's brow crinkled in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this whole cancer thing entirely. Can't I make it go quicker as in, so quick it's pretty much immediate? There must be some kind of potion or spell that would do it?"

"Harry, are you actually suggesting to me that I murder one of my students?"

Every inch of Poppy's face screamed complete and utter incredulity as she stood up from her seat on the bed while Harry's immediate response was to cross his arms defensively and straighten up properly, suddenly feeling much more defiant and determined regarding the _+

99999999999999999matter when he saw her reaction. For this very reason, Poppy Pomfry felt elated that she had had the foresight to contact Healer Robertson prior to speaking to Harry. Because if she hadn t talked to him, she would be facing a serious dilemma right about now, about which decision would be the moral high ground, healer assisted suicide or putting a patient through Hades and back in the hopes of saving their live. But the Healer had told her that it isn t uncommon for cancer patients especially those who are in their youth to become clinically depressed; he had reassured her that as long as the patient in question had the will to fight, he would take the case in tandem with a potions master whom poppy trusted implicitly, s she had been prepared for this, but being prepared for the possibility of such an eventuality happening and actually sitting here and listening to a boy whom she considered her son in all but blood asking her to end his short life were two different sides of a galleon.

"Not murder, more like euthanasia really. It would just be putting me out of my misery; I don't want to spend the last of my life suffering! If I have to die can't I at least do it on my own terms? I'm so sick of being out of control, why can't I just have this one thing before I die? Can't I just get to make one decision and not have it ignored? All my life I've let everyone else make my decisions for me but I'm sick of being manipulated! If I can't gain control of my life then the least I can do is gain control of when it ends, and I don't want to draw it out any longer than necessary. That's my final decision, and whether you help me or not I'll make sure it happens. You can't watch me all the time."

Harry's gaze was like a turbulent sea with the array of different emotions they held but it was fierce, determined and resigned more than anything else.  
In his mind he would have his way. All he waited on now was to find out if Poppy would help him or not.

What she did next was in no way what Harry would have predicted from her, but he would be hard pressed to find a situation for the rest of his life that was diffused as quickly and easily as the one he had created by the simple, and yet in his eyes unbelievable, action his healer took.

"Oh, Harry! Come here!"

Poppy replaced herself on the bed next to Harry and pulled him into her until his upper body rested in her lap and she rocked him, mumbling nonsense and runner fingers through his hair. She pressed a kiss to Harry's head, deeply feeling the pain of someone she loved being apparently so determined to die.

Harry, utterly shocked by her reaction, did nothing for a good few seconds. He had been expecting anger, disappointment, disbelief, anything but this comforting acceptance of the depth of his feelings on the matter. And suddenly he wished she had gotten angry. He wished she had shouted at him, called him stupid, forbidden him to leave, anything. Because all her sympathy did was break down the wall he had unwittingly constructed and allow the dam inside to break allowing the emotion to come pouring through. Suddenly all the fight in Harry left him and he once more allowed his pained heart a voice through his tears, whimpers, sobs, and sniffles with the gentle presence of Poppy to ground him.

"Not once in all my years have I seen you look so defeated Harry! Not even Voldemort could squash your will to survive, what's so different about being ill? Both make you suffer and both threaten your life, why let one get to you so much and not the other? And what's all this about control, hm?"

Harry abruptly pulled away and sat up, scrubbing his face roughly with the palms of his hands and clearing his throat in an obvious effort to pull himself together and destroy the evidence of his most recent breakdown. He was sick of always crying, he'd never acted like such a baby in his life, it felt like all he did was cry these days. It was getting ridiculous. It was pathetic.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

"I'm sick of crying! All I ever do is cry! It's stupid. Girly."

"Oh, don't be so silly. If a person can't cry when they've been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer, then when can a person cry? I'd be more worried if you didn't cry an awful lot if I'm being honest. These things take time to deal with; you can't just shrug it off a couple of days later. I understand that so don't bother feeling embarrassed that you've cried a few times. I don't think any less of you for it.

"Now, why don't you explain to me some of what you're feeling? Maybe we can sort some things out, hm?"

Harry sighed and pulled his legs up onto the bed once more in order to sit cross-legged. Once comfortable he gave a somewhat simplified, understated explanation for how he felt.

"I'm just sick of having no control over anything in my life. I feel like I've never had a choice, and now that I'm dying I feel like I've missed a chance to take the control that I would have taken had I been able to live my full life. I'm sick of being manipulated, I'm sick of being who people have expected me to be just because I let it become my comfort zone. Basically, I thought I had time to figure out what I wanted and who I was, but now I know I don't, and without the hope that someday I'll be able to live free of this life, I just don't see the point in it anymore. I just want to end it now instead of going through all of the suffering and then dying."

"Harry, the cancer doesn't mean you've lost your chance to take control. Maybe it's just the opportunity you've been looking for to kick-start this process. Would you be against me having a healer come talk to you about your options, perhaps this cancer doesn t have to be the end of the line for you. The healer I m referring to could be here as soon as the day after tomorrow if you wish to listen to what he has to say. You are in no way obligated to start treatment after you talk to him. It can t hurt to hear what he has to say right? Not to mention, I hear he s quite good looking, said Poppy in the hope that mentioning Healer Robertson s assets would kick-start her patient s will to survive. Would I be correct if I were to say that you would be happy if you could just decide what you want to do and be, and you were able to go ahead with it instead of just obeying everyone else?"

"I guess so, pretty much well, yeah. I want to do what I want if that even makes sense. And if this mysterious healer is as good looking as you have led me to believe, sure, I ll be positively elated to hear what he has to say.

A broad smile crossed Poppy s lips, because Harry Potter was finally willing to stand up and fight the cancer instead of just rolling over and letting it kick him like an abused dog and just die. "I see. Tell you what then, why don't you to write a list of everything you want to do before you die. Don't think of any limitations either, forget you only have a certain amount of time, and forget about all this cancer business. Just think about what would allow you to leave here happy. Then we'll have a look, see what will be possible, and get you started on going through that list. I'll do my best to help you get the things on the list done. Does that sound fair?"

"Yeah. Thanks Poppy," Harry smiled. He didn't know if this could actually work or not, but either way no one had ever gone out of their way to allow him to do what he wanted before, and that was enough to make him try at least.

"Good. Now, you get started on that, while I see to whoever is at the door. And by the way, Healer Robertson can see you during your period off on Friday morning right before Transfiguration.

Harry was perplexed. How did she know for certain that this bloke could come and talk to him at a specific time on Friday? Wasn t he some sorta super important cancer Healer or something?

At that moment Draco Malfoy walked through the door with his wand pointed at his forearm, casting a refrigeration charm. Poppy must have cast another warning spell at the door without Harry noticing, because the nosy Slytherin had made no noise as he approached the hospital wing, and therefore given no warning of his presence.

Great. Just what Harry needed. Malfoy seeing him just after bawling like a newborn baby, and judging by Malfoy's expression he wasn't going to get away with the excuse of hay fever or a cold, despite their present location.

Harry was extremely aware of the fact that he was sitting cross-legged on the bed, still wearing pajamas and more than likely looking like crap. In front of Malfoy. He would cringe if it weren't for the fact that Malfoy was staring at him. As well as that it would be extremely obvious to Malfoy that he had just been crying. He resisted the urge to wipe his face once more. While it might rub away any lingering evidence of his tears, they might have already disappeared enough to be unnoticeable. In that case rubbing his face would only draw closer attention, which would then alert Malfoy to the fact that he had been crying when he might not have noticed otherwise.

Harry lowered his head in an effort to hide his face and listened as Malfoy complained to Poppy about his friends apparently cursing him. His eyes never left Harry as he spoke, and when Poppy had to disappear into her office to collect a potion from one of the cabinets in there, he took his chance to roll his eyes, sigh, and start in on Harry.

"Oh for the love of what's got you all upset now then Potter? I heard you had an accident at Quidditch but I never realized you'd be this pathetic about it, crying like a two year old with a skinned knee? Honestly, you're such a baby!" Malfoy tutted mockingly.

"Piss off Malfoy, what would you know? I might have a perfectly good reason to cry! Not that it's any of your business. And besides, you're one to talk considering everyone knows you're the biggest girl around when it comes to a little pain. Tell me, have you got an extra X chromosome secretly stashed somewhere? It wouldn't surprise me if you did actually, it would explain a lot. Why can't you just crawl back into the hole you came from?" Draco was clearly baffled at the bit of Muggle biology, but he understood the rest well enough.

"I am not a girl! I just use the situation to my advantage when I'm hurt is all, just like everyone else around here. The big difference between what I do and what you do Potter is that your inability to cope with anything is genuine! I don't think even a flobberworm is weaker than you are, you can't handle the tiniest little pain or problem. I mean, look at you! You're already healed, there's nothing wrong with you! Get a grip!"

At that moment Poppy came back with what looked like bottled snow, oblivious to the boys' argument, and sent Malfoy on his way quickly, but Malfoy's words had already had the chance to spear through Harry's heart, and Harry was fuming.

'How dare he! I can handle anything I put my mind to. He's the one with no strength of mind or character! I'll show him, nothing can stop me from standing tall, nothing!'

With that vow burned permanently into his mind's eye, Harry set about finding a piece of paper to get started on that list. He would need it. He just knew that from then on that he wouldn't let this thing beat him. He couldn't stand the thought of letting Malfoy win. He would prove his rival wrong once and for all. No matter what happened there would be nothing that could bring him down. He would NOT. Give. In.

The second Draco walked through the doors of the hospital wing he cast his gaze around the room, his eyes searching out their assigned target; Harry Potter.

His arm twinged again and not for the first time he cursed his idiotic, fanatical friends for the completely DISLOYAL and UNCONSENSUAL act of throwing an Incendio at his arm so that he would have an excuse for going into the hospital wing to try and figure out what was up with Potter.

All he had done was walk innocently into the dorm room after doing prefect duty with his Ravenclaw counterpart to find his friends puzzling over why Potter hadn't come out of the hospital wing since the day before. They managed to discover he had been put there by a Quidditch accident during practice by eavesdropping on the Gryffindors, but there were two things which made the group extremely curious as to what else might be going on behind this so-called accident.

The first was the fact that Potter didn't have Quidditch accidents. Not once in his Quidditch career had there been an incident that had ever purely been a simple mistake. There was always something more going on behind it, whether it was homicidal bludgers or even dementors wanting to suck out his soul.

The second reason for their curiosity was that Potter had been kept in, not only overnight, but off of classes as well. This was extremely unusual, as most incidents were healed extremely quickly. Only more serious problems required more lengthy visits.

Instead of just leaving the issue when it became clear that the answer wasn't just going to pop up in pink neon letters in front of them like any normal person would have done, his psychotic friends had thought it a good idea to send him in incognito. So, they burned his arm so that he would have a reason for being in the hospital wing without arousing suspicion WITHOUT including him in this little decision, and then had the nerve to laugh at him when he screeched indignantly and then grumbled loudly about the fact that the lot of them couldn't produce one brain cell if they all chipped in together.

"What's happened to you then dear?"

"My IDIOT friends burned my arm. Practicing Incendio." Malfoy scowled and snorted. "They definitely need it anyway!"

He was not impressed. Not in the slightest.

Well, since he had been sent in here against his will he might as well do what he came here to do. He had noticed the second he walked in that Potter had been crying. He would have loved to feel the satisfaction of knowing Potter looked like an idiot when he cried, but sadly he was one of those highly annoying people who managed to look amazing whether they cried or not. Draco looked like he was allergic to tears when he cried, something he hated with a passion. His face went all blotchy and his eyes went all red and puffy, he even got a runny nose that left him sniffling pathetically all the time. And yet, there Potter sat with a face blotch-free and a complete lack of red eyes or puffy skin. The only thing to give away the fact that Potter had been crying at all was the moisture still clinging to his eyelashes, even the tear tracks had been wiped away. This just served to further irritate Malfoy and he couldn't help but lash out.

"Oh for the love of what's got you all upset now then Potter? I heard you had an accident at Quidditch but I never realized you'd be this pathetic about it, crying like a two year old with a skinned knee? Honestly, you're such a baby!"

"Piss off Malfoy, what would you know? I might have a perfectly good reason to cry! Not that it's any of your business. And besides, you're one to talk considering everyone knows you're the biggest girl around when it comes to a little pain. Tell me, have you got an extra X chromosome secretly stashed somewhere? It wouldn't surprise me if you did actually, it would explain a lot. Why can't you just crawl back into the hole you came from?"

Draco couldn't help but get a little confused, 'X chromosome? What on earth is that? It doesn't matter! That prick just called me a girl! No wait, try and get him to say why he's here um I know! I'll make him think I see him as pathetic, then maybe he'll try and prove he's not by telling me about whatever horrible thing he's supposedly gone through to land him here in the first place!'

"I am not a girl! I just use the situation to my advantage when I'm hurt is all, just like everyone else around here. The big difference between what I do and what you do Potter is that your inability to cope with anything is genuine! I don't think even a flobberworm is weaker than you are, you can't handle the tiniest little pain or problem. I mean, look at you! You're already healed, there's nothing wrong with you! Get a grip!"

Just as Potter was about to answer Madame Pomfrey came out of the office with a potion to help heal the burn and sent him on his way. He had no choice but to leave with no new information to help solve the mystery. In fact, if anything, what he'd discovered just made it even more a mystery, as far as Draco could see there was nothing wrong with Potter except the fact that he'd cried, so why was he In the hospital wing?

When Draco reached the common room, he pointedly ignored his Potter-stalking friends and strolled calmly back to his dorm room to plot revenge on them. He wasn't indulging their stupid tendency to want to know anything and everything about Potter until after he had gotten his own back on them. It may just be something they do as a joke to provide some entertainment, but burning his arm was desperate, even for them. Admittedly the curse was an extremely weak one, and it hadn't really hurt after the initial first couple of seconds but still! That was impulsive, even for them! Well, maybe not actually, it was just the sort of weirdo thing they'd do all the time really and they always did it to Draco because for some reason they found his reactions amusing. Hah. He'd show them amusing. Let the pranks begin!

To be continued

Hope you lot enjoyed the chapter. I don t know if it was just me, but Harry seemed to flit through emotional states rather rapidly, but I attribute that to his upbringing. After being forced to hold in all emotions whether positive or negative when you re growing up can make one more emotional once something else big comes along. Harry feels utterly safe around Poppy hence he finally allowed the barriors to fall. Stay tuned for the next chapter. It ll be out soon. And I d like to apologize for the long wait for this chapter, real life has been consuming large quantities of my free time of late. But fall break is just over the horizon.


	6. Chapter 6: The Wish List

Diagnosis

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter than I suspect that many of the characters would be chasing me with pitch forks for the things I have and will put them through in the near future.

A/N: Sorry for the stupidly late update. I won't bore you with silly-long excuses here though, as the vast majority of you no doubt really couldn't care less. And hope you had a better and less stressful week than I did, here's the short explanation, I had biology lab issues to straighten out, quizes, tests, a paper due, and to top it all off, my mom had to be hospitalized for a few days. Nevertheless, here's the next chapter. Another chapter might be posted, but that's only possible courtesy of me already having the next one written. Read and review. Also, I appologize for all of the 's and quotes that have been missing from chapters 2 through 5, hopefully they're all fixed for this chapter. And a big thanks to those of you who stick with me despite my spelling and grammar mistakes.

Any opinions on the following chapter would be appreciated, but I think it's better than the last. Thank you for those who commented on the last by the way, I agree with those of you who thought I'd hurried things too much with Harry going through the range/spectrum of emotions. Hopefully this chapter will help explain why I felt the need not to linger on the whole suicidal bit, despite my agreeing that it was too hurried.

Without further ado, please enjoy chapter 6 :)

Chapter 6 The Wish List

While Draco ignored his friends' attempts at interrogation and tried to come up with different ways to prank them for even daring to pull that stunt with the incendio on him, Harry sat on his hospital wing bed and rapidly scribbled every little thing he could think of that he would love to do on a piece of parchment. His expression changed often, flitting between different emotions as quickly as his hand formed each item on his list, but the ruling expression was a pensive one. This was important to him, so he would put all of his effort into creating this list, and he would make sure he did all he could to get everything realistically possible on it done.

Poppy

Poppy watched from afar, as she pottered about doing any small chores in the wing, as long as they kept her close to Harry. She wanted to be there when he finished his to-do list.

It wasn't until half an hour before dinner that Harry finally seemed to relax back into the upright pillows behind his back and survey what he had come up with.

"Are you finished with your list?"

"I think so. I guess I'll just add anything else I think of to it later, but just now I think I'm done. Do you want to see?"

Harry looked up and Poppy felt a spark of happiness that Harry considered her worthy enough to be so open with her. She had worried that the list he had written would be too personal for him to allow her to read, but it seemed her anxiety was unfounded. He was obviously keen for her to go through the list with him. She couldn't help but enjoy the feeling it gave her, the sense of what it must be like to have a son that depended on you, regardless of age or independence level.

"Certainly! Now, let's see..."

Harry handed her the list and let her eyes scan the parchment that his hands had so painstakingly written on. What she found was a variety of things, some of which were expected, but a large number of which were not. Poppy raised her eyebrows at a few, and in any other circumstances she would utterly disapprove of plenty of them, but she reminded herself that Harry wanted to do these things, and he might only have a very small amount of time left to do them in.

"Well, it seems to me like a lot of these would involve leaving the school grounds?"

"Yeah, I know, but you said not to think about restraints, so I just put down anything I could think of. But it's okay. I can just do the other things on the list." Harry smiled but Poppy could see the resigned disappointment in his eyes.

"You know it's an awful shame I've had to ban you from Quidditch, now that's not very fair at all. Maybe it would be fairer to give you a special pass with permission to leave the school grounds at any time you wish? Just as an alternative form of entertainment, of course, as a sort of consolation for the loss of flight. Obviously only staff members can give out such things, and obviously students aren't ordinarily allowed them except in special circumstances. And I think that it'd be prudent to tell your Head of House some of what s going on, both so that she would be another staff member that knows of your medical situation in case of emergency and for the added support of another staff member for the permission form. No doubt some of the less favorable professors will cause a fuss, but I for one don't give a shrivel fig about what they think." Poppy broke into a mischievous grin, as she pictured the look on the new DADA professor's face upon learning that Harry would receive (in the Ministry's humble opinion anyways) preferential treatment due to his status as the boy-who-lived.

"But I'm sure that in the end, your teachers would recognize my authority as part of the staff to give a student who has so unfairly and unwillingly been stripped of his favorite hobby a pass, should they ask. Don't you think? If Minerva's going to be on my side, don't you think that she deserves to know about one of her lions' cancer?" wheedled Poppy rather slyly for someone who hadn't been sorted into Slytherin. The healer's so-called 'casual' tone was actually rather far from casual, and closer to scheming. She couldn't help but smile as Harry's face lit up.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Just try not to be too obvious or silly with it. You could get it taken from you, if you draw too much attention to the fact that you have permission to be outside of Hogwarts at any time. You can bring people with you wherever you are, up to a maximum under one pass though; you can bring your friends. Just promise me you'll be careful?"

"I promise, Poppy! And I suppose you ought to tell Professor McGonagall about my health, like you said, though please make sure that the news won't be spread around the school like wild fire. I only want those who have to know about it too. Thank you so much for the pass! You won't regret this, honestly!"

"Good. Now maybe you can get out there and have a bit of fun. And of course, it goes without saying that if you pursue treatment, part of your absence from the castle could be explained away by unnecessary excersions to have fun, instead, of what they really are, trips to and from the hospital. Though never fear my dear, even Filch wouldn't question my permission for something medically necessary if the worst should happen and Hogwarts at large finds out, now would he?"

"Don't worry, I intend to. And I reckon Filch wouldn't, but you never know with him."

"Too right," said Poppy her lips turning up in a mischievous smile.

"I have a question Poppy," said Harry hesitantly.

"Shoot."

Harry gnawed his lip nervously before saying, "When healer Robertson comes to talk to me on Friday, how will we explain his presence in the castle to the Headmaster? He has a penchant for sticking his overly large nose into nooks and crannies where it doesn't belong. And the last thing I want is him finding out about my cancer before my friends know."

"I've already got that covered," reassured Poppy. "You see, healer Robertson and I ve known each other since we were youngsters, and we oftentimes come to consult with one another when we're unsure of a diagnosis; it isn't out of the ordinary for him to be seen striding through these halls. And if the worst should happen, I've got a host of readily available excuses to give him. I can always state that I can't tell him a blasted thing, because of the Healers Oath and he can't do a darn thing about it, no matter how much it'd infuriates him."

Poppy took hold of Harry's hand and gave it a squeeze, her expression and manner changing as the tone of their conversation turned more serious.

"I'm glad to hear it, but does that mean I can trust that I won't find you lying at the bottom of the astronomy tower or lying in a pool of blood then? It scares me to hear you say you want to take your own life, but I would rather know so that I could help you."

Poppy fixed him with a probing gaze that forbade him to avoid either her or the necessity for an honest answer to her question. Harry sobered up quickly and became rather sheepish in response.

"I - I'm really sorry Poppy, I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't even mean it, not really. I just got so frustrated and had a bit of a temper tantrum I guess, that's all. I mean, you know me, I might get really angry very quickly but stuff like that never lasts with me. In fact, I can just imagine that by the time I had everything set up to do away with myself I'd just be really annoyed and disgusted for even thinking of being such a spineless quitter."

Harry gave a weak smile in an effort to reassure.

"Seriously though, if there's one thing I've taken pride in my whole life it's that I don't let anything get to me, not even my family. I want to be strong. I don't want to let them have the satisfaction of ruining me. I suppose I kind of forgot that when Voldemort came back. I can't help but feel ashamed of myself when I look back and see what I've let myself become, but this is my chance to make up for it! I'll prove that I have plenty of inner strength. I can handle anything if I put my mind to it. I know I can."

The sheer strength of the conviction, determination, and will-power in Harry's voice gave Poppy the reassurance she had been looking for, allowing her to give him a smile at the end of his small speech. Harry's eyes burned with the inner strength he had always had, despite it having been dampened since Cedric Diggory's death and Voldemort's return. Poppy couldn't help but notice that the words sounded almost like a long-ago, yet familiar, mantra being renewed.

She couldn't have been more accurate, and the longer her mind lingered on the words Harry had spoken the more she remembered past incidents when the words had gotten him through.

"Now that's more like the Harry Potter I know. I haven't heard that particular pearl of wisdom from you in a while. You used to say that to me all the time in your earlier years, when you would talk about your family. I admit it's a relief to hear you say it again."

"But now I think it's about time you rejoined the world of the living, don't you? Go and get ready for dinner. It'll be starting soon."

With that said Poppy patted Harry's knee twice, stood up, and left him to organize himself. She was glad that the idea of it being better to kill himself now, instead of trying to make the most of the life he had left, despite the struggles he had to live through yet, had pretty much been derailed before it could pick up steam.

Harry left the hospital wing to make his way to dinner with his list clutched in one hand, and his ticket to making the things on that list possible tucked away in his pocket.

Harry

As Harry made his way along corridors and down stairs, suicide was the last thought on his mind. What ran through his head continuously instead were the countless new possibilities that were now ahead of him. There were so many previously locked doors now opening up to him, all thanks to Poppy, and now he could barely decide what he wanted to try doing first.

He supposed logically that he should do the most important things to him first. So what was most important to him in life? The people in it of course. That meant that he should start making changes and taking action regarding those people first, rather than starting with experiences which weren't all that important in the grand scheme of things. Well, beyond the fact that he really wanted to do them.

But even then, there were so many things in that particular category of Stuff-To-Do that he still wasn't sure where to start. Perhaps with the Slytherins?

Holly abruptly popped into his head, along with the memory of promising he would visit her at her table some time. He would need to make sure he did visit her; he didn't want to let her down after all. She was a sweet kid, and it would be nice to catch up with her and make sure he hadn't unwittingly botched her healing. He would do it another night though; he wasn't that sure he was up to it at the moment. His day had already danced an emotional tango and the last thing he wanted was to have to deal with the uncharted territory that was the Slytherins' table.

Before Harry could consider his options any more he was hit with another thought, just as he walked the last few paces to the doors of the great hall, causing him to pause in the rhythm of his footsteps briefly.

'Of course! Voldemort! How could I forget!'

Harry couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed that he had taken so long to even remember his and Voldemort's unfinished business. Its importance went above and beyond anything else on his list, and the fact he had even had to think about what to deal with first was disgraceful.

Harry made the decision then to have 'Find a way to off MoldyShorts, soon.' be his top priority. While he worked on it (He had no doubt it wouldn't be a walk in the park after all, far from it in fact), he would take the opportunity to do anything else on his list as it came to him.

Before Harry could complete his journey to the Gryffindor table, he looked up and caught the eyes of Ron, who looked at him rather apologetically and then shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Confused, Harry scanned the rest of the table and found the majority were shooting extremely annoyed glances in his direction. Harry quickly slowed down as he tried to puzzle out exactly why he was getting such dirty and betrayed looks. Finally, he realized.

'Of course. Ron must have told them about me quitting the team maybe I will visit Holly tonight after all. It'll probably be less stressful than the earful I'll get from the Gryffs.'

Harry smiled in reassurance at Ron and Hermione's sympathetic expressions and waved cheerfully, turning around and heading for the Slytherin table.

Occupants of the Gryffindor Table

Back at the red and gold table, the students were quickly frowning in confusion just as Harry had. Ron lowered his feebly waving arm slowly.

"Ehhh where the heck is he going exactly?"

"Looks like the Slytherin table for some reason." Hermione answered, her eyes following Harry as he came to stop next to a first year girl. Her hair was an ash-brown color and held back from her face in a pony-tail, making it easy to see her dark grey eyes and the countless freckles that littered her mildly pale face. Neither Ron nor Hermione recognized her. "But I surmise she's that kid that Harry mentioned healing up," said Hermione somewhat randomly. She didn't want to reignite the argument of earlier back up with Ron by saying too much.

"You can't be serious. What on earth for?"

"Maybe he's trying to prove a point?"

"What, you mean because of what we were talking about earlier? Why would he do that?"

"Well, I don't know, I'm just guessing here."

Ron eyed the rest of the Gryffindor table, as though the answer would be written on one of their faces.

"We're not that scary are we?" asked Dean, who was one of those who had been glaring at Harry for the, in his opinion, idiotic decision to quit the team. It was like throwing away the cup!

"Yeah, actually, you do look pretty creepy now that you ask. You should really look up some cosmetic charm specialists. Come on 'Mione, let's go," sniped Ron.

Ron and Hermione made to climb out of their seats as the rest of the table got a laugh at Dean's expense, but Harry glanced over, made sitting motions with his hands and mouthed 'Later!', causing them to resume their seated positions. The Gryffindor table exchanged nonplussed looks.

"I assume we'll be giving him the third degree the second he gets back to the tower then?" Ginny asked casually.

"Definitely!" replied Parvati.

"I was thinking something more along the lines of the Spanish Inquisition." Hermione chipped in, in a jokingly sadistic manner as she reached for her pumpkin juice.

"I like your style Hermione!" was Seamus' input, and from there everyone went back to enjoying their meal, knowing they would extract answers from Harry soon.

Pansy

Meanwhile, sitting at the Slytherin table and blissfully unaware of what was about to transpire, Pansy was beginning to get extremely annoyed. She was trying to have a conversation, but this was made much more difficult when the group of first year girls she and her friends were sitting next to kept acting like such snobby, all-knowing prats. One of the three girls seemed to be claiming that she was a friend of Harry Potter's, and he was going to come sit at their table for the sole purpose of experiencing her company.

Yeah, right.

Normally Pansy wouldn't have cared one little bit considering ridiculous claims like that were common, especially amongst the innocent first years. What caught her attention and annoyed her this time, however, were the two girls who appeared to be the storyteller's friends. Supposedly.

While Pansy agreed that there was nothing wrong with telling their friend that they didn't believe her and she should stop telling such obvious lies, it was the way they went about doing so that she found appalling. Draco, who sat across from her, seemed to agree if the frown on his face was anything to go by.

"We're not stupid you know Holly, I wish you would just stop going on about this stupid lie! Harry Potter is not going to make friends with a first year Slytherin, especially not one like you. If he was to make friends with a Slytherin first year you'd be the last person he would consider, you're too whiny and clumsy and babyish. You know, if you keep acting like such a loser you won't have any friends, honestly, you've been annoying us so much with this nonsense! Right, Megan?"

Megan, who blushed as the attention was turned to her, just nodded uncertainly. She thought Holly was being rather silly with her outrageous claim of being Harry Potter's friend, but that didn't mean she deserved such mean things being said to her. Unfortunately Megan didn't have the necessary back-bone to say that to the third member of their group, and so the self-important girl made to continue her harsh rant with a victorious look as no one put her in her place.

Until, that is, Pansy finally decided that she had, had enough of listening to the blatant bullying going on right next to her.

"Oh for goodness sake! Lay off will you? You're starting to annoy me, and I'm not even involved! Quite frankly I'd rather have a lying loser for a friend than you if I had to listen to that all day. You should always support the members of your house. Even if it means you take them aside and warn them subtly that their behavior isn't appropriate to a member of the house. Never forget that."

The young girl's mouth snapped shut and she blushed, slightly ashamed at herself for having to be reminded by a sixth year of what was important; the strength of the house as a whole. She just got so caught up with the vision of superiority which she had been disillusioned with that she couldn't help but voice her thoughts. It was a habit that was slowly being broken down by the collectivist attitude of her housemates, rather than the individualist attitude of her family at home.

When Pansy turned back to her friends, Draco gave her a barely noticeable nod after taking note of the first year's reaction. She couldn't help but smile a little in return. As senior students it was their job to watch over the state of their house, and constantly ensure that everyone observed the basic principles lain down by their head of house. It was nice to be given acknowledgement for her efforts to maintain the long-standing tradition of solidarity within.

Draco

"Oi, Malfoy. Incoming."

At the unexpected warning from an unknown third year boy, Draco looked away from Pansy and looked for whatever or whoever was coming. What he discovered was that Potter appeared to be making his way over to the Slytherin table. Pansy narrowed her eyes in question when she saw his response to whatever was occurring behind her, no doubt able to read the expression on his face that seemed neutral to anyone else, but to her screamed 'What the Hell?'. Draco just shook his head and muttered to her the name of the disturbance, which was steadily succeeding at silencing all conversation at the Slytherin table as more and more people noticed him. Draco privately commended Pansy for not instantly turning around to get a look for herself at this never-before-seen occurrence. Draco had been known to occasionally bother the Gryffindors at their dinner table, but they had never taken up the act themselves before, not even once. Pansy whispered back incredulously; "Why the hell is he coming over here? He's never bothered before, why start now?"

Draco just shrugged again and pretended to be casually eating his dinner in preparation for the expected interruption, though what the interruption would involve was a complete mystery to him. He waited patiently and calmly on the outside but inside his mind raced through the possibilities.

Maybe Potter was coming over to insult him. But if that was the case, why was he bothering now when he had never bothered before? Maybe he needed to talk about something. Although, what on earth could he possibly want to talk about?

Draco froze suddenly. Maybe he wanted to talk about the war in some way. Or maybe he wanted to talk about Draco's father...or Voldemort...maybe he even wanted to ask Draco for his allegiance and loyalty! Maybe -!

Maybe he wasn't even coming to see Draco.

Potter had just walked quite casually past his rivals. Draco pretended not to notice the slight disappointment curling its way around his mind. He instead allowed a small, confused frown to escape. What on earth was going on here? He noticed that Blaise looked like a kid in a sweet shop, considering the opportunity he had to observe such a rare piece of gossip about the boy-who-lived in person. Everyone else at the Slytherin table within a reasonable distance of this strange event continued to eat their dinner as normal and didn't look at Potter, but they all remained silent and hyper-aware of where he was heading and anything he might say. They all waited on tenterhooks to see where he was going, only to feel complete confusion and ignorance when he stopped next to a first year girl.

Blaise's eyes glimmered in glee, causing Millie some amusement at his predictably childish behavior. She just knew he would be speculating on this incident for weeks to come and by extension so would she.

Pansy and Draco, however, locked eyes at the realization of Potter's original destination. The girl hadn't actually been telling the truth, had she?

Harry

Harry almost groaned when he finally spotted Holly sitting right next to Malfoy and his cronies. Well, he might as well bite the bullet and go sit down. He wasn't letting the prospect of Malfoy spitting insults at him for the duration of dinner stop him from keeping his promise.

Making sure not to even look at his opponent, Harry confidently strode over to Holly and alerted her to his presence by dropping his bag onto the bench next to her. Conversation was non-existent around him by the time he had reached the table, and Holly twisted in her seat to see who was causing all the fuss.

"Harry! I knew you'd come!"

"Of course I did, I said I would didn't I?"

Harry smiled at the girl as she beamed back and flung her arms around his waist, which was about as high as she could reach considering their difference in height and the fact that she was sitting, while he stood. Harry just laughed good-naturedly and stroked her hair since he couldn't wrap his arms around her in return from his position.

"Are your friends coming too?"

"Nah, they're staying at the Gryffindor table."

Holly pulled back out of the hug and glanced over at the Gryffindor table as Harry shoved his bag forward off of the bench and under the table in order to make room to take a seat. While he settled down, he also glanced over to his house table and found Ron and Hermione beginning to climb out of their seats as if to follow him.

Harry quickly signaled to them to stay put; it wouldn't be a good idea to have them come over until he'd explained to them why he was even there in the first place. The last thing he wanted was for a fight to break out between the Slytherins and his friends when he was only trying to spend some time with Holly. Malfoy and the others appeared to be handling his presence well so far, but he didn't know if their tolerance would stretch to include two more Gryffindors, no matter how curious they might be as to why exactly the trio were there talking to one of their first years.

This was, of course, assuming that the reason for their silence was curiosity. It could have simply been the fact that they were so shocked at his presence that they hadn't yet recovered enough to fully react, and would do so explosively at any moment Harry decided not to look into the proverbial gift-horses mouth however, and instead turned his attention once more to Holly. He placed his hand under her chin and gently tipped her head back. He wanted to be 100 percent sure that his healing spells had done their job faultlessly.

Holly just stared back at him while he examined her face.

"Em Harry? What are you doing?"

"Hm? Oh, I was just checking to see that there was no bruising or anything. Did everything heal up okay? Be honest!"

"Yeah, you did a great job Harry! I wish I could heal stuff. Do you think Madame Pomfrey would let me help her when I'm in 6th or 7th year too?"

"I don't know, that's up to her I'm afraid. You'd have to prove to her that you take it very seriously though, and that you'll work very hard to be able to learn the techniques properly. I'm sure if you're determined enough, you could convince her eventually," replied Harry tapping his chin in thought. He knew that Hermione intended to inform the other houses of the DA meeting on Saturday, but would she avoid the Slytherins, thinking that they were hopeless cases? Deciding not to risk it, Harry said, "Holly, I can't promise you that Madame Pomfrey will teach you, though knowing her as I do, I'm sure she will but if you'd like, you're welcome to come to the great hall at ten o'clock on Saturday morning to learn some healing spells amongst other things."

Draco blushed upon overhearing what Harry had just said to Holly. Though he was surprised that Potter didn't taint the younger years view of him by telling them about how his friend's and he had been part of the inquisitor squad last year who took great pleasure in getting Dumbledore sacked and their group dismembered by way of informing Professor Umbridge about Dumbledore's army.

"I'd love to, but what would my friends do while you were teaching me all about healing?"

"Everyone is their first and foremost to learn how to defend themselves during the upcoming confrontation. And you ought to be pleased to be the first one to hear that I plan upon having several of the students who wish to stay out of the thick of things, to serve as a healing squad of sorts whose only job during a battle is to retrieve injured students, take them behind the line of fire, and stabilize them, so that they can make it to Madame Pomfrey in time." Though his housemates might be a tad jealous that the Slytherins were the first to hear the news and therefore would be the potential members who would by default have first dibb's in a neutral position but still be doing something for the cause.

"I hope so! I've decided I want to be a healer when I'm older. I'm going to work even harder than your friend! And I can't wait for Saturday, will you be teaching me how to heal people?"

"I have to talk to Poppy to make sure that she's on board first, but I hope to teach you guys in shifts, when I'm free, I'll teach you guys, then when I'm working with those who are learning defensive spells, Poppy will teach you lot." Harry left out the minor detail that when he had to quit the most important role of teaching the older years, and worked with the healing squad, he'd be doing so because he was to sick to serve in the capacity of defense instructor that particular day.

Holly rubbed her hands together gleefully.

"And good luck on outsmarting Hermione then! I doubt many people could manage that considering the stupid amount 'Mione works. Just be careful and try not to wear yourself out too much like she sometimes does. You should work hard, but you should play harder."

Harry winked playfully at Holly and finally took note of the people he was sitting next to. The girl sitting across from him had long dark hair, pulled up into a neat, elegant bun, and fairly pale skin. Her eyes were also dark with the color similar in shade to that of a medium coffee-brown, which expressed her wariness of him and the sense that she didn't quite know what to do with herself in her current situation. As a result she appeared to shut herself off from him to a degree for protection.

Next to this girl, and in front of Holly, sat a rather timid looking blond girl with averagely blue eyes and a slightly rounded face. Harry could barely believe the similarities between the girl and Neville, and if he hadn't been positive that Neville would have told them if he had a sister, he would have easily believed the girl to be a long lost relative of the boy's.

To Harry's right were a large group of third years, and to Holly's left sat none other than Draco Malfoy's group, though specifically it was Parkinson actually sitting next to her. Obviously, Parkenson hadn't yet declared for the Dark side or she would have already told known supporters of Voldemort who sat at this very table what she had overheard about the invite on Saturday. Harry hoped that she could be trusted.

Harry had to remind himself not to bother about them when the eerie silence began to creep him out a little. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this exposed.

"So, I take it these are your friends then?" he asked, referring to the two first year girls sitting across from him and Holly.

"Yep. The one sitting across from you is Ann, and the one across from me is Megan."

Harry offered his hand to the girl opposite him but she seemed rather wary of taking it, making Harry think for a split second that she would refuse to shake his hand at all. In spite of this, however, she slowly but surely lifted her hand off of her lap to grip his own briefly, though not so brief as to be impolite.

"Hey, my name's Harry."

" Potter. I know. Ann Dawson."

Harry tried hard to hide his irritation at Dawson's interruption and the fact that she just ignorantly rubbed in his face the fact that he couldn't seem to escape the reputation he now had. He couldn't even introduce himself to a stranger without them already knowing him (or so they thought), and it was all thanks to the newspapers and magazines. They couldn't seem to find anything better to talk about than him, which you would think was an almost impossible task considering the times they were living in, but somehow they managed to defy that impossibility.

"Oh. Right. I should have figured you'd know already. Sorry."

Draco

Draco, who had missed the slightly bitter tone in Potter's voice, snorted quietly. 'Arrogant git. He really does seem to expect everyone to know who he is just because he's got a scar.'

Harry

The blonde girl, apparently Megan, wasn't as restrained as the newly identified Ann, and smiled at him in greeting while she too shook his hand.

"It's nice to meet you Harry. I didn't really believe Holly when she said you two were friends I'm afraid. Sorry Holly."

Megan's last phrase was directed at Holly with a blush, which simply flicked the end of her pony-tail over her shoulder and smiled in a combination of acceptance at the apology, and dismissal to Megan's lack of belief in her. When Holly could see that her friend still felt awkward and uncomfortable, she tactfully changed the subject to safer ground. Or so she thought.

"I heard you were in the hospital wing Harry, is that why you missed dinner? Are you alright now?"

Harry scanned the table in front of him to see if he could see a pudding he particularly fancied while listening to Holly. He had missed the main course while getting ready to leave the hospital wing.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Nothing that Madame Pomfrey can't handle, you know how she is. Probably better than anyone else I bet." Harry teased.

Holly stuck her tongue out at Harry in response and spooned some ice cream into her mouth. Meanwhile, Harry couldn't recognize the plate of muffins sitting in front of him and happily seized his chance to get off of their new, barely touched conversation topic again.

"I thought the menu this week was the normal one? What's this?"

"Well, it is. It's just that different house tables get different things. Those are banana muffins. The Gryffindors get chocolate muffins don't you? It's so unfair! I love chocolate muffins but we never get them." Holly pouted and glared at the offending plate of cakes. Harry merely blinked in surprise.

"Really? What's the point in that? Why don't they just give everyone a selection of muffins? That's so stupid." he commented bemusedly. "Well, you can have mine if you want. Although I'm assuming Ron hasn't scoffed it already. Which he probably has actually."

"Really?"

"Sure. Hang on and I'll go see if Ron's already eaten it. I normally give it to him anyway you see."

Harry climbed out of his seat and left his school-bag behind in what was either a moment of utter brainless stupidity, or a show of good faith towards the Slytherins while he walked over to the Gryffindor table to see if there were any chocolate muffins left for Holly.

Holly

The second he was gone, the Slytherins broke out in frantic gossip, eager to ask and answer as many questions as possible in the time they had before Potter got back. After the initial outburst of hissed whispers however, the general hubbub died down until everyone left the questioning to Holly's friends while they listened in.

"Oh my God, Holly! I can't believe you made friends with Potter! Of all people! How did you do it? Where on earth did you even meet him? And what's he talking about some healing thing for? Did-"

Holly was completely taken aback at first but she recovered eventually and finally managed to reply, cutting off Ann's constant stream of inquiry in the process.

"Calm down! It's not that big a deal, honestly. Remember that day I tripped and fell on the stones outside, and I scraped up all of my face and arms? Well when I went to see Madame Pomfrey, Harry turned up. Madame Pomfrey was busy with a couple of other boys though, so she taught him how to heal my scrapes on a fake arm and he healed me up. That's it, basically."

Finally, Blaise could contain himself no longer and he dropped all pretenses of not being interested.

"He was in the infirmary again? Do you know what for? This is getting kind of weird don't you think? I mean, in the last month alone Potter was picked up out of potions where it was implied he'd been there once already. So, that's twice. Then there was the incident in potions again, three, the time he apparently met you, four, and then this mysterious Quidditch injury that was no way bad enough to justify how long he was in for, five. That's more than once a week!

"Something's not right, I'm telling you. Maybe Madame Pomfrey is training him even though he isn't out of school yet, that at least fits in with what you're saying about him healing you. Speaking of which, did he really heal you? I'm shocked if he did, even the trainee healers out of school don't get to do that kind of stuff without studying all sorts of theory on it first."

"He did so heal me up, and there were no bruises or sore bits or anything. Has he really been in that much though? I hope he's alright. Maybe he's just really clumsy like me?" Holly couldn't help but worry upon hearing her friend had been in the hospital wing so much.

Pansy

Pansy could see that Potter was making his way back over, and took her last chance to say what she wanted to say.

"Listen Whyte, I'm sorry. I thought you were making it up just like everyone else. If I had known you were telling the truth-"

"It's okay. I guess it is kind of unlikely that we would be friends. I mean, where or when would we meet up in the normal school routine? No where really."

Harry

By the time Harry sat back down everyone had once more returned to pretending to eat their puddings obliviously.

"Sorry, but Ron got there before me."

"Awwww, that's a shame. It doesn't matter though." Holly looked vaguely disappointed, making Harry bite his lip, feeling even worse.

"But it's still not fair! Tell you what; I'll bake some chocolate muffins for you. How does that sound?"

"You can do that?"

"Yeah. I know where the kitchens are. You can help me if you want, we can make loads and you can hand some out to your friends or something."

"That would be so cool! I didn't even know you could cook! Can we do it tonight?"

Harry looked slightly surprised at Holly wanting to bake with him that very night, but it wasn't like he really had anything else on tonight, and it would be a great excuse to escape from the question and answer session that was no doubt awaiting him back in the tower.

"Sure, why not. I can meet you at eight in the entrance hall and take you to the kitchens if you'd like?"

"Yes! I can't wait!" Holly punched her arm in the air in her excitement, once more acting like she was cheering at a Quidditch match, making it clear to Harry that this method of expressing her happiness or excitement must just be a quirk belonging to the girl. He smiled at the enthusiasm and decided he would settle for a cup of tea and get something to eat in the kitchens later if he felt hungry.

The conversation from then on was mostly held between Harry and Holly, with Dawson and Megan only talking when they had been spoken to directly and an answer was expected. Malfoy and his friends, meanwhile, continued to eat in near silence, partly because they didn't want to miss anything important, but mostly because they simply didn't know what to do with themselves. After all, what did one say in response to your supposed enemy sitting himself down in the middle of home-base and chatting idly with one of your own?

After a while of talking about how Holly was getting on in her classes, and Harry helping her with the pronunciation of Wingardium Leviosa (not forgetting to regale her and her friends with the tale of Ron's difficulty and Hermione's slightly patronizing help), the conversation was interrupted by none other than Severus Snape.

Those who saw him coming first could only assume that he was there to question Potter's presence, and possibly do something about it. They just couldn't decide whether or not they hoped this assumption would prove to have a base in fact...actually, they were getting quite annoyed at their own lack of decision making. One would be forgiven for thinking they were incapable of it the way they were currently going, and Slytherins absolutely abhor appearing incapable or unable. However, we've been sidetracked; let us move on.

Harry quickly thought of what the reason was for the subtle change in atmosphere and gave himself the internal instruction to just play it cool. He calmly sipped his tea and waited for the professor to reach him and say whatever it was he had to say.

"Potter."

"Professor?"

"What evenings do you have free?"

Harry blinked. Was he getting detention then? Somehow he didn't quite think that was very fair, especially considering there wasn't an actual rule stating anywhere that the houses had to stay apart.

But that made no sense, if he was getting detention then why would Snape bother to ask for a time he was free to do it in?

"Why?"

Uh oh. Now Snape just looked irritated.

"Why do you think, you dunderhead, have you already forgotten our arrangement regarding remedial potions lessons?"

Snape raised his eyebrow.

"Oh! Yeah! I completely forgot about that! Em, I'm free for whenever you want me."

Upon hearing the words coming out of his mouth Harry couldn't help but be aware of how they could be taken and quickly re-worded to rectify this.

"I mean, I don't have anything on other than classes, so it doesn't matter when you want me to come down for help with potions."

Harry reached out and picked an apple up off of the table, thinking about eating something after all while Snape considered this along with the rest of the table. He really liked apples. Especially the red ones and this one looked particularly good. He bit into the apple and decided yes, this was definitely a good apple.

"What about Quidditch practice?" Snape asked slowly, clearly confused. Surely the boy couldn't have forgotten about Quidditch, he was supposed to be ridiculously fanatic over the sport after all. Harry hummed slightly as he swallowed his bite of apple, clearly enjoying the taste, and then replied, still smacking his lips slightly, "Don't have it anymore."

Severus

Severus could swear he felt the first twinges of a headache coming on. He couldn't believe the idiocy of this brat!

"Potter, as much as I realize that you are ridiculously full of yourself, I think stopping to bother with having your team practice is going a bit beyond cocky, don't you? You're supposed to be the team captain and it's your duty to do everything you can to help your team be the best they can be, not selfishly use your authority to get out of practice-"

"I quit the team."

Potter took another bite. He seemed for all the world that this really wasn't a huge deal for him or the Slytherins around him. In fact he appeared to barely be paying attention; he was far more focused on eating his apple than anything else.

Draco

"What?"

The word slipped out of Draco's mouth before his brain had a chance to remind his lips that they were supposed to be set to "silent treatment" due to the utter disbelief that Potter's statement had instilled in him. This was some kind of bad joke, right?

Harry

Harry simply ignored Malfoy's question, or possibly didn't hear it, and instead chose to take the initiative with his conversation with Snape, since the man seemed to have forgotten the point in it anyway.

"How about on a Friday or Saturday then, if you're free and willing? That way, if I screw something up majorly I'll have enough time to clean it up without having to worry about how close to curfew it's getting, or any homework due the next day I'm supposed to be doing and stuff. Or even just for when I might have to do a potion that takes me a while to make in general I guess. I don't really mind at all though; it's up to you."

Snape was finally brought back to reality long enough to agree that, that sounded fine before stalking off, his usual frown fixed in place.

"Harry! I can't believe you've quit the Quidditch team! Why did you do that, you love Quidditch don't you? Is it because of that Quidditch injury? Was it really that bad? Will you be able to play again? Can you still do other things? What about,"

Harry laughed in amusement at Holly's steady stream of questions and placed his hand over Holly's mouth to try and stop her long enough to try and answer them, and hopefully move on to another topic as soon as possible as well.

"I can assure you that I have definitely quit the Quidditch team. Well, I told Ron and 'Mione that I'd have to quit the team and Ron blabbed to the rest of the tower, but I haven't officially told McGonagall the news yet. I intend to as soon as I can though."

Harry had planned to answer all of Holly's questions one after the other, but was prevented from doing so when more questions came at him. The first came from Holly; "You HAD to quit the team? So your injury really is that bad?"

The second came from Dawson, who looked confused; "The tower?"

"Em, no, I didn't mean I had to quit the team as in I had no choice. The tower is just what we call our main group of Gryffindors in general, because our living area is in a tower. Sorry, it never occurred to me that you wouldn't be used to the nickname. It just makes it easier to refer to 'the tower' instead of 'Ron, 'Mione, Dean, Neville, Parvati, Lavender, Seamus' etcetera when talking about us all."

"Ohhhhhhh! Is that why they don't look very happy with you? I can't imagine they'd be very pleased with you leaving the team."

Harry sighed at Holly's astute judgment of the slightly hostile vibe his table had been projecting at him earlier.

"You'd be right. They're NOT very pleased with me right now. Well, I'll admit I haven't had the courage to go and face the music yet but I'll probably get it in the neck when I get back to the tower. I can just hear Seamus now: 'I can't believe you'd do this to us Harry! You're practically handing the Slytherins the cup, do you want them to win this year?' Urgh. And to make it even worse, they probably won't stop bugging me about why I'm sitting at your table."

Draco

Draco let out a disbelieving snort.

"I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be courageous Potter, scared of your own lion cubs?"

Potter scowled at him.

"Nobody rattled your cage Malfoy, just do us all a favor and go back to pretending to eat your dinner."

Draco would have taken great pleasure in using this opportunity to jump into another battle of wits with Potter, but he was thrown off course by the fact that his enemy appeared to be rather unexpectedly observant. Millie looked just as disconcerted by the fact that Potter had apparently noticed their lack of interest in their meals. Had they really been so obvious about it?

No. This was Draco Malfoy. That just couldn't happen...Perhaps they would need to be more careful around Potter from now on though. In retrospect it seemed like a rather foolish idea to take it for granted that Potter was completely oblivious.

What else could he have noticed?

Harry

Harry, satisfied with the lack of response from Malfoy, turned back to Holly while making a point of twisting his body in the chair so that he put as much of his back to Malfoy as possible without looking ridiculous.

"Anyway, as you were saying Harry."

"Right...Wait, what was I saying again?"

Draco

Scratch that. Potter was oblivious. His comment about pretending to be interested in dinner was either a complete lucky fluke at being observant, a random shot in the dark which happened to be true, or the Slytherins really had been shocked to the point of losing all sense of subtlety.

Harry

"So you really did choose to quit Quidditch then? Why would you do that? You're the team captain, and everyone knows you're important to the Gryffindor team. Everyone says you practice nearly all the time."

"I know, but "

Harry, who had no idea of what would come next in the sentence he had begun, couldn't have been more relieved when the owls began streaming in through the open windows high up the walls of the hall.

Due to the times they were living in it was an extremely likely possibility that the students' and teachers' owls would be intercepted. In an attempt to prevent this, the times of the owl delivery had been changed from breakfast time to a random, constantly changing schedule. The students and the senders themselves didn't know when the owls would arrive, just that they would arrive during a meal time, and not at all on some days. This made it harder for people to predict when to take their chance and capture a poor owl to try and glean any information that could be useful to them from the animal's cargo.

Today the owl post was obviously being delivered during dinner, and Harry couldn't have asked for a better result himself when they effectively stole the students' attention. He glanced up at the whirls of feather and talon himself, trying to spot the familiar spark of snow amongst the streaks of brown and sure enough Hedwig soon broke through the throng to drop a newspaper on the table in front of him.

Harry smiled affectionately at the bird and let her hop onto his arm so that he could smooth her feathers while cooing words of praise and thanks.

"Wow Harry, your owl is so pretty! What's its name?"

"Her name's Hedwig. She's very friendly, too. She won't mind if you pet her. You can even feed her if you want?"

At Holly's beaming smile it was obvious she would love to and so he picked some scraps from the table in front of him and handed them to Holly. He then held out his arm to bring the bird closer to her and Holly began feeding Hedwig with one hand and stroking her head with the other.

Eventually the bird decided that its human contact quota had been filled to a satisfactory level and flew off without warning, clipping Holly's head with her wing as she passed.

"Hey! Her wing got me!" She yelped in surprise, causing Harry to snicker at the startled expression on her face.

"Don't worry. That means she likes you, she does the same to Ron and 'Mione all the time. If she really likes you she'll nibble on your finger or your ear depending on where she's sitting at the time. So far she's only ever done that with me though." Harry reassured, scanning the front page of his copy of The Daily Prophet.

Holly grinned with pride at Harry's owl liking her and turned to her own mail. She however, unlike Harry, skipped the front page of her own copy and had a quick flick through to get a vague idea of what the paper contained. She liked to wait until she had privacy in the evening to read it if it had a lot of topics she was interested in. If it seemed that the content wasn't anything she particularly cared about in much depth however, she would just skim read it at the dinner table. One article managed to catch her attention, and she paused in turning over the pages at a steady pace.

"Hey Harry, you're in the paper again."

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes.

"What are they saying now? Honestly, I can't believe people actually think this rag is worth anything. I mean, anyone with a shred of sense in their brain could logically deduce that half of the rubbish they print isn't true. Quite frankly, who cares how tall I've gotten, or whatever other completely random, insignificant and mostly false thing they seem to think is important to report on? I only get this thing so I can understand what on earth is going on when I get random students coming up and asking me if I was really accepted into a herd of centaurs as one of their own. Have you ever even met centaurs? That proposal is nothing short of ridiculous. A dunderheaded third year Hufflepuff even asked me if I had 'mated' with one! Can you believe that?"

Holly giggled at Harry's rant, and took note of the increasing number of people beginning to lean over in their seats, in an effort to get a better view of him, while he was occupied with reading the article that Holly had pointed out. She too went to read it, wanting to know what the fuss was about.

Poor Potter Puts on the Pounds!

For a long time many of us have admired our favorite little hero for his strength and determination in the face of adversity. As we all know, it is not easy to stay positive under such terrible strains and pressure, and he manages it so easily where many would fall.

Or so we thought.

New evidence has come to light that paints a rather different picture and the truth it speaks is that our chosen savior is simply not coping. "What is this so-called evidence?" I hear you cry, but before I drop the bombshell I believe a little background knowledge would be appropriate.

Depression is a serious mental illness and it is common knowledge that, among other symptoms, changes in eating patterns are a common indicator. This can be either under-eating due to a lack of appetite and interest in food, or over-eating in a search for comfort.

One of our faithful readers (who wishes to remain anonymous) has managed to obtain and send to us a t-shirt belonging to none other than Harry Potter himself, as can be seen in the above picture. As you can no doubt see for yourself the garment is worryingly big at a staggering size 16 18 (extra-large).

Could The Boy-Who-Lived be so depressed that he has to resort to food for comfort? One has to question how the poor young man's mental state has been allowed to deteriorate to such a shocking level that he has comfort-eaten his way to obesity.

This reporter only hopes that he is given the proper help he needs to recover from this, and I am sure the public will join me in supporting him every step of the way.

Well, that definitely explained why everyone was trying to get a good look at him; to judge for themselves how "fat" he really was and how he would react to the revelation that someone within the school must be acting as a spy for The Daily Prophet. Harry didn't appear to have noticed however as he was calmly folding his paper up.

Holly was worried about his reaction to finding out that someone had stolen his clothes and sent them to a reporter. After all, who else could get a hold of them except someone in Gryffindor? It was never a nice feeling to discover a knife in your back, especially when you don't know just who exactly it was that betrayed you and put it there in the first place. It would only cause paranoia and drive a wedge between people who had already built up a lot of trust.

"Harry, everyone's staring," she muttered unsurely.

"I know. They want a reaction, so I won't give them one. Look, Holly, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to skip making muffins with you tonight. I'll organize another time whenever I see you."

"That's okay, Harry, I understand."

"Thanks, Holly, you're a star."

Harry pecked Holly on the forehead in thanks, climbed out of his seat and unhurriedly swung his bag off of the floor and over his shoulders.

"I'll speak to you later, but just now I need to have a few words with my house."

He explained mildly at the question in Holly's eyes, though somehow the statement felt like the real emotion behind it was suppressed in Holly's ears.

"Bye."

"Bye, Harry!"

Holly waved at the sixth year as he stalked out of the hall. Boy was she glad she wasn't a Gryffindor. Who knew what drama would unfold between Harry and his housemates when he walked into that supposed tower.

TBC

Please don't laugh at my attempts at writing an article, even though the author of the article is supposed to be incompetent XD

I wonder who will recognize which book shares its title with this chapter

I hope that the different povs provided you guys with some insight to things that you'd have ordinarily been left in the dark to rather than confusing you. BTW during the next week, I'll be reformatting chapters two through five since some readers have shared their displeasure with the spelling and punctuation. Fanfiction doesn't care for rtf files at all and eats a lot of the punctuation marks and such. If you can help it, try and avoid using rtf in your own pieces unless you enjoy taking the extra time to go back and fix such things. Thanks for reading, and I hope you lot have a happy weekend.


	7. Chapter 7: Elisa

Diagnosis

Disclaimer: If I owned the Potter verse than Severuss, Dobby, Tonks, and Remus wouldn t have died without such deaths being necessary to the plot like she did.

A/N: My Muse is like the energizer bunny, she just keeps on going and going and going especially when she gets lots of reviews, because they make her feel like all of her hard work isn't for not.

Thanks for all of the lovely reviews. I read and appreciate what all of you have to say, even if it's that all of my f-ing 's are missing, which they were and I'm going back to fix the previous chapters. Constructive criticism only serves to further my knowledge. I'm aiming to update regularly on every Friday, and if I'm in the mood, you might get an additional chapter. College and my social life have kept me from posting until now. How do you like Elisa? Her character has been introduced not only to add a new and pointless oc to the story, but to further the plot. I'd like to point out to a previous reviewer that Ron's childish behavior in Transfiguration is typical of someone his age and of his level of maturity, and how they act around a recent love interest. Lavender and Ron's relationship is only temporary; he'll get back to his ordinary level of maturity once Hermione rips him a new one. lol

In this chapter, Harry's Slytherin side comes out to play. Edited 4-3-13

Chapter seven: Elisa

Just as Harry was rounding the corner on the floor in the corridor where he had had his run-in with Bartemious Crouch JR. during his fourth year, Harry spotted Lavender Brown hot on his heels. The Boy-Who-Lived did his best to ignore the girl for he knew just what she wanted to talk about: the article that he and the rest of Hogwarts had saw only a few moments earlier.

Much to his dismay, Lavender grabbed a hold of his robe sleeve before he could make a break for it.

Deciding that he had more important things to do than try to evade Brown all evening, Harry turned around to look at her and said, "What is it Lavender?"

"Um, I was wondering if what the Daily Proffet reporter had said was true about you compensating for all of the grief you've suffered recently by overeating."

Harry glared daggers at the sixth year Gryffindor. He made a valiant effort to hold in the snort of derision at her idiotic misconception but he couldn't manage such a difficult feat. His ordinarily long fuse had been shortened to a dangerously short length after what had transpired in the hospital wing earlier. "What?" snapped Harry shortly.

"You see," gushed Lavender in that annoying way that only she could manage. "You don't look like you're putting on the pounds to me. Yes your clothes are rather large, but it looks like you're starting a new trend of Muggle fashion at Hogwarts, not like you have became addicted to eating like that bent of a reporter claimed. On the contrary, you could afford to eat an extra helping every now and again."

Harry sighed. His eating habits and such were none of the wizarding world's business, nor were they any of Lavender Browns for that matter. "I don't give a damn what the Daily Proffit thinks of my appearance. And for the record, if I want to become obese like my Uncle and cousin, it'd be my prerogative, not theirs," stated Harry matter of factly.

"I wasn't criticizing," said Lavender hurriedly. "Merely curious. So who do you think gave them your shirt size anyways? Do you reckon it might be one of your dorm mates? As horrible of a thought as that is, it'd have to have been someone who had ready access to your laundry right?"

Lavender had a valid point; the question was how was Harry going to confront them without coming off as overly confrontational.

Harry chuckled as an image of Winky popping in the sixth year boy's dorm room to steal his shirt to please which person she saw as her new master of the week came to mind. It wasn't really all that funny how devoted poor Winky was to Crouch even after he chucked her out during their fourth year for something his son did, nor would it be funny now, if she'd taken up with a new master to whom she could be blindly devoted to once more. Surely if she was the colperate, though, Dobby would have informed him already; after all, Dobby clung like a leach to him, no matter how hard he protested the house elves assistance, Dobby clearly wasn't going anywhere any time soon. One suspect down, though this thought did little to comfort the Gryffindor because he still had a house full of suspects left to go.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" Harry said, changing the subject. He had made the tone of his voice slightly higher to please Lavender, and it had succeeded in getting her full focus. When she shook her head, Harry continued. "Do you have a thing for Ron?"

Lavender looked around before nodding and giggling. "He's just so cute and so funny too! I just wish he'd ask me out already. You know, I've seen him looking at me too, but that Hermione stops him I bet; it's no secret she's been pining after him for years. I mean seriously, if the feeling was mutual, she'd have asked him out all bloody ready." Harry secretly disagreed, but he was in desperate need for Ron's attention to be diverted from his best mates health if he was going to keep his cancer from him for too much longer, and Lavender was the perfect distraction. Hermione on-the-other hand wasn't so easily distracted. However, jealousy just might do the trick. Harry felt bad about manipulating his friends emotionally like this, but needs must when the nun do is on the prowl. And when a witch as bright as Hermione cottoned onto something, she just wouldn't give it a rest, hence why he was talking to Lavender Brown. You see normally he avoided her like the plague because of how she treated him like the quintessential gay bloke what with her incessant nattering on about fashion, boys, and her all-time favorite, Who's Who in Witch Weekly, which was widely known for it's embellishment of celebrities everyday lives, much like their Muggle counterparts who get their jolly's by making up lies about the rich and famous aka those who write for gossip rags and the various tabloids. In short, Harry detested long chats with Lavender due to her giggly nature and because she always seemed to suspect his true sexuality if her conversations with him were anything to go by. She treated him like the stereotypical gay man; what many people are blind to is that not all of the gay community enjoys fashion, gossip, manicures and the like.

"Hmm, well I was reading a Muggle magazine the other day, and there was this article about getting a boyfriend," Harry lied; Lavender looked intrigued. "And do you know what it said the best thing to do was?"

"No, what? Go on, you have to tell me," Lavender begged, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

"It said that guys like independence in a girl, and that a girl who asks them out has the highest probability of getting a lasting relationship." Harry made all that up completely, of course, but Lavender bought it hook line and sinker.

"Really? Oh I'll have to give that a try; thanks, Harry. I'm going to go get Parvati to help me do my hair for class tomorrow; that way I don't have to rush in the morning to make sure I look stunning for Ron. All I'll have to do is fix my makeup and I'll be ready to go," the girl sang before literally skipping away. Harry sighed exasperatedly. 'Their she goes again, treating me like I'm just another one of the girls.' Mused Harry not pleased in the slightest.

When Harry finally arrived at the portrait hole, the cacophony of noise that met his ears was deafening and made his burgeoning headache threaten to turn into a full-blown migraine. Why the population at Hogwarts seemed to eat right out of the hand of every reporter who wrote for papers with as disreputable reputations as the Proffit, Harry would never know. This irked him to no end. Now thanks to some up-start reporter's shoddy guesswork, Harry would be forced to listen to and deal with a two-fold argument about HIS life from his fellow Gryffindors, instead of just one.

Shoving his way through the throng of bodies Harry made his way to his favorite armchair, right by the hearth. That spot of the room was dubbed the trios and rarely was their space infringed upon. If he was going to have to endure an interrogation by those whom he had considered friends, then he could at least be comfortable while he did it.

Strangely enough, as soon as Harry's rear had come in contact with the comfy chair, the room fell into an unnatural silence.

Feeling a little unnerved with the absence of excited and energetic voices that usually filled the common room, Harry said, "I'm sure you lot are just as curious as the rest of the school is as to why I'm no longer on the Quidditch team."

Harry glanced around the room for his friends. Ron Harry noticed with a bemused smile was sitting with Lavender on a divan. They were whispering back-and-forth amiably. Lavender didn't waste any time after their chat of just a few moments ago. The nearly total silence was broken when Hermione, Neville and Ginny got up from where they were sitting previously and came to sit with their friend near the fire.

Harry was glad to have some moral support during the first part of two difficult conversations, though the latter part would only be between the Tower, because like Lavender had suggested, the person who had let slip to a reporter his hand me down shirt size had to have access to his laundry, before the house elves came to collect it every day.

"I heard you injured your shoulder during Quidditch practice," stated Neville. "What caused the fall from your broom?" At the mere mention of the spectacle that many a Gryffindor had witnessed murmurs of "What a near miss that was." and "Holey cricket! If I d been in Potter's shoes, I'd resign from Quidditch effective immediately, after something like that," could be heard by all throughout the common room.

Harry winced internally, before using the first excuse that came to mind. He felt bad about lying to Neville, but now was hardly the best time to tell his closest friends and the House at large that he had cancer. "I was flying at double the recommended altitude for unprofessional flyers, and a bout of dizziness hit me. I misjudged where my broom was; fortunately two team members were their to catch me before I hit the ground at breakneck speed. And for the record I didn't resign as Gryffindor seeker by my own free will. I plan to get back on my broom and up in the air playing Quidditch just as soon as I'm cleared to fly again." The fact that such a day might never come went unspoken or even thought of at the moment. Harry was far from ready to deal with the implications of such depressing thoughts.

"What caused your vision to become distorted," inquired Hermione.

Harry thought fast and replied, "As you know, it's been a while since I had my eyes checked for a change in the prescription, the glasses that my relatives got me simply weren't cutting it. Poppy believes that the outdated prescription could've played a part in my fall." 'There, I didn't outright lie to my friends face, I merely distorted the truth a bit.' Thought Harry. Which if you stretched the truth to it's fullest extent, was in part true. His vision had been affected by the brain tumor that had taken up residence in his brain without asking his permission first. Though the fall had been more from his worsening vision which couldn't be helped, as far as Harry knew, but they hadn't asked why his prescription was no longer adequate, now had they?

Harry was sure that Hermione would put the pieces together sooner rather than later, but that wasn't today and that's all he cared about for the time being.

"What does this mean for the team," asked Ginny from nearby.

"Ron and I talked it over and we are still debating on what the best course of action should be."

"What's that supposed to mean," asked Katie Bell.

"Since you're the senior member on the team, the final decision is up to you, but what Ron and I have come up with, we feel that it's better to have Ginny play seeker."

"Bah," articulated one diehard Quidditch fanatic. "Then we'll be entirely reliant upon her to catch the snitch, if we're going to bring Gryffindor to victory this year!"

Ginny blushed scarlet at the implication that she had been less of a seeker than Harry last year. She had done a stellar job in her humble opinion; maybe she didn't knock the socks off of Slytherin, but she had given it her best shot.

"Chill out," said Katie calmly trying to keep the piece. "This means that we'll have to have Quidditch try-outs again to find a replacement chaser, but we'll manage. It'll take a lot of time and commitment on the team as a whole, if we're going to pull this off, but I have full faith in our House as a whole. Gryfindors are supposed to have courage. Now let's show the rest of the school how we can recover from the blow that Harry's absence causes the team in general, and find someone who s willing and ready to learn new maneuvers and flying strategies in a hurry, so that we can crush Slytherin! Oh and Harry, I'd like you to talk to Professor McGonagall about becoming the Quidditch captain for Gryffindor. You can't play Quidditch, but that doesn't mean that you can't still play a vital role on the team. And before you start spouting off about me being the senior member of the team and all of that rot, remember that if I had wanted the position, then I would have already taken on all of the duties that come along with it gladly. I'm only the captain in name only at this point. If you want the job, consider it yours!"

"Thanks for the inspiring words," said Harry blushing madly. "She's right you lot. Since when has Gryffindor put their heads in the sand and given up just because we had a hard time of it. Yes I'm grounded for the time being, but that doesn't mean that I won't be around to give advice where it's warranted." Harry was permanently grounded for the time being, but they didn't need to hear more bad news just yet. And with any luck, what Healer Robertson had to say the day after tomorrow would be good news instead of just more gloom and doom.

"Are their any more questions about my temporary Quidditch ban," asked Harry, hoping that it would only be a temporary thing and that he'd have this cancers arse kicked into remission in no time. Poppy hadn't talked to him about remission and the possibility of reoccurrences happening later down the road, mainly because her knowledge of cancer and it's intricacies were largely a mystery to her, however, he had watched a show about it on the telly one day when his relatives went out for lunch.

Pulled out of his maudlin thoughts by Hermione tapping him on the shoulder Harry asked irritably, "What?"

"Don't get snappy with me," said his friend. "I just wanted to congratulate you on avoiding the Spanish inquisition that this conversation could've become. I don't know how you managed to put a halt to it before it began, but more power to you. All the Quidditch talk was about to send me into a catatonic state," joked Hermione.

"Yeah," chipped in Neville. "I thought that once you opened the floor for more questions that they would never stop."

Harry looked up in astonishment to find the common room practically vacated by most inhabitants of Gryffindor. "Where did everyone go," asked Harry in surprise.

"I reckon they decided that now was the perfect time to go to the library to do some studying," said Ron sarcastically, who now stood behind Harry with Lavender in toe.

Harry highly doubted that a vast majority of the House suddenly had a sudden hankering to study for classes; it was ten times more likely that they had decided to take their gossip somewhere else, which was fine and dandy with him.

"Nah," said Harry. "It's more likely that they're holed up somewhere talking about who will take Ginny's spot and about that preposterous article about my tendency to overeat."

"Who cares if they are," said Neville. "It doesn't matter what most of the school has to say about you mate."

"They're always nattering on about something concerning you," said Ron. "Whether it's you being the heir of Slytherin who possesses snakes to do their bidding, or about who you might be dating, it really doesn't matter what they think. They aren't the ones who will be there for you when you need it most."

Ordinarily Hermione would be the first to agree with Ron on the rare occasion that he was right, but apparently he had someone more important in his life these days that could do that for him, if Ron and Lavender's close proximity to one another was anything to go by.

"I've got some charms homework to be getting on with," said Hermione. Harry wondered if this was the perfect excuse she needed to get away from her friend and his new girl. For it was obvious for all of Hogwarts except for Lavender because she had the hots for him, and Ron himself-because he was in denial and afraid how such a relationship could potentially damage such a good friendship as the one that Hermione and he shared, that Ron and Hermione had always had a thing for each other. The trouble was that they were both to blind to see what was right in front of their faces. Covering up for his friends obvious lie, Harry said, "Damn! I totally forgot about that charms essay. When is it due again?"

"By next class," supplied Neville. He was the ever-helpful friend, the one who remained oblivious to the fact that neither of them had been slackers and neglected their homework.

Playing along Harry replied, "Thanks Nev. The Tower needs to have a meeting in ten."

Fortunately for Harry, he had caught Dean before the youth could flee to the library; clearly not everyone had completed said assignment, if Dean's facial expression was anything to go by.

Ten minutes later found Harry and Ron sitting on Ron's bed side by side, Neville sat on his four-poster with a Herbology text cracked open, and Dean and Seamus were sitting atop Dean's bed. Harry could only distinguish the two best friends sleeping quarters from one another by the pile of dirty socks that were wedged under Seamus's bed. Out of the two, Dean was the neat freak.

Harry cleared his throat ominously and began, "As you're all already aware, when the post arrived at dinner this evening, the Great Hall held it's collective breath as we all read as one, yet another blasted article about my supposed life. First off, I'd like to state quite clearly that the article is wrong, as they usually are. None of those reporters who claim to have an inside scoop about my life are dead wrong in their publications. They should really do their homework before they go shouting off their arses about who I'm supposed to be shagging, or how I'm putting on the pounds. If the reporter who wrote that poor excuse of an article had taken the time to interview me in person, than they'd have seen for themselves that I'm nott in a large, much less an extra-large."

"Too right," agreed Ron loyally.

"The very idea is laughable," said Neville who has always been a bit on the chunky side until this summer when his baby fat had turned into masculinity. "And besides, how much or how little you weigh has no bearing on your true personality. Malfoy for instance is average and he can be a right git at times. And Mandy Brockleherst has a big build and she's as nice as they come. No matter what the stereotype is about skinnier people being more attractive is a bunch of hogwash anyways."

"What do you mean bout their being a stereotype like that," asked Ron truly puzzled.

"In the Muggle world you see commercials, which are just advertisements for products that are for sell, on the telly that show mottles in them. You rarely see a larger person in a commercial about shampoo," explained Harry. "Maybe someday, this will change, and people will start to change their narrow-minded beliefs about what the perfect figure is, but for now..."

"But we're getting off topic," said Harry. "I don't have all night to talk to you about the telly and explain how it works; just ask Dean, he'll fill you in."

Dean chucked a piece of parchment at Harry for his former remark. "I don't have the time, nor the energy for such a discussion Harry. Thanks a lot," muttered Dean crassly.

"What exactly do we need to talk about," asked Neville curiously.

"For one thing, I want to sus out who sold my shirt size to some up-start reporter. I don't appreciate it in the slightest. You lot especially should know by now how much I value my privacy."

"Why exactly would I tell some reporter something so trivial," asked Neville innocently.

"For the money," replied Ron. "Any news that has the slightest probability of being true concerning our resident savior (Ron made air quotes with his fingers) is big news and big news equals higher sells of the newspaper and that leads to more money being made."

Harry paid close attention to everyone's facial expressions as Ron said that last statement so that he could gage their reactions to the idea of selling his stuff to a reporter to gain a few galleons; which would in theory give the Gryffindor some insight as to who the perpetrator was. Dean looked shocked that anyone would stoop so low as to snatch a friends shabby T-shirt for something so petti. Neville had a scowl on his face at the audacity of someone who would do such to a mate like that. In typical Ron fashion, the youngest Weasley son looked slightly jealous at the fact of someone else having more in the way of finances than himself, however, he didn't look guilty, and Harry could read his friend like an open book. On the contrary, Seamus's face reddened in shame and the Irish bloke averted his eyes from Harry. Harry didn't want to be accused of making wrongful accusations so he decided to handle matters in a diplomatic manner and interrogate everyone separately. That way, Seamus, or anybody else for that matter, couldn't say that Harry was incorrect about them having a serious case of diarrhea of the mouth when it came to things concerning the chosen one.

Now how was he supposed to propose the planned interrogation of each of them to his dorm mates? For he was sure that they had things that they'd prefer doing on a Wednesday evening than answering questions that for most of them were entirely baseless but he couldn't appear to show favoritism to his friends and leave Neville and Ron out of the private chats lest the whole of Hogwarts hear that Harry can't play fair when it comes to matters concerning his friends.

Deciding to just get it over with all bloody ready, Harry began awkwardly, "Erm, would you mind if I asked you all some questions in private in order to ascertain whose loose lips sank ships?" Ron looked bewildered at the muggle saying.

After receiving four nods in unison, Harry pointed at Ron first; he wanted to get the farce of an interview over with his best mate. He never guessed just how far off topic these little sessions with the Tower would've gotten, or he would've probably given it up for a bad job pronto.

After the three boys had left their dorm room for the common room, Harry shut the door, locked it with a colloportuss, which caused an odd squelching noise as the door was sealed, and to make sure that the details of every one of his friends conversations remained confidential, he cast a silencing charm on the door just in case.

Harry placed his wand back in the front pocket of his jeans. Then Ron said in jest, "Oh dear dear Mr. Potter, I see that you haven't been practicing elementary wand safety you wouldn't want to accidentally hex off your bits, if you did then the Potter family line would cease to exist, and you ought not give Malfoy that supreme pleasure to lord over your head for all eternity."

Harry socked his friend on the shoulder and retorted. "Shut it you, the Mad-Eye persona just doesn't suit you at all. Besides, I'd wager that half of Hogwarts students stow their wand away in their back pockets without a second thought. Well at least mines only in my front pants pocket and under my robes to boot."

What Ron didn't know was that Harry intended to stop by Diagon Alley to get a wand holster at the next opportunity. The wizarding world was now at war and he could hardly afford the time during the heat of battle to reach underneath his robes and into his jeans pocket to get his wand. Voldemort or any of the other death eaters really would've hit him with an AK before he had the chance to fire off a spell.

"I have to ask you, though I'm quite sure you didn't, did you sell Dudley's shirt to the reporter at the Prophet just to gain some much needed cash?"

"Nah, mate. You already know that I'm over that whole business of being jealous of you for your unwanted fame and money." Harry had his doubts about his friend being entirely over it, but he was certain that his friend would never betray him like that.

"But I do have my suspicion as to who might've done it," supplied Ron helpfully.

Trying to get a feel of the waters Harry asked, "Really, who?"

"This stays just between the two of us right mate?"

"Sure thing mate," said Harry.

"I believe that Seamus did it. After what I caught him saying too you at the beginning of last year, when the Daily Prophet was still insisting that Dumbledore and you were crack pots; he never really seemed to regret his words to you, nor did he seem to change his tune after the Prophet rescinded their false accusations about you being a rotten liar and Professor Dumbledore being off his rocker."

Harry was suitably impressed by all of the new vocabulary Ron was apparently picking up from somewhere. It was funny how he noticed the little things about his friends maturity or in some cases, lack thereof after his cancer diagnosis.

"Yeah, I kind of got the feeling that Seamus was jealous of Dean when he got on the team and he didn't," agreed Harry. "Now unfortunately for us, we'll probably have to try the catch em with honey approach, since he's the only other half-decent player who tried out, but needs must when a nun do comes and burns down the door and leaves you with no other available options."

"So Harry," asked Ron in a nonchalant tone, hoping to gain a proper answer from his friend this time. "Why did you really fall from your broomstick?"

"I told you, it was from a myriad of factors, lack of sleep, dehydration, and a headache," lied Harry smoothly, the only part of that statement that was true was the whole headache angle. He had debated on just coming clean with his best friend about having cancer and all of the relevant details, but Ron would have no idea what cancer was and then he would go ask Hermione, who would consequently flip out. No now definitely wasn't the time.

Having no idea that he narrowly avoided the bomb shell that Harry had almost dropped on him by the skin of his teeth, Ron asked, "You're still going to be the team captain right? Poppy forbade you from flying, not attending all Quidditch functions. And Katie seemed perfectly willing for you to do so."

"If the DA doesn't consume all of my time, then sure. I'm not going to leave you lot out to dry like that. Though, any Quidditch strategies and assistance you can give me when I'm unavailable to show up would be greatly appreciated." Ron was clueless just how often that might be. He had basically asked his friend to be the co-captain, which was a first in Hogwarts history if Harry wasn't mistaken, though he was sure that Mione would know the answer to that if he ever cared to ask her.

Rons face lit up at the prospect.

"Holey mother of Merlin! You want me to help us bring Gryffindor to victory?"

"You betcha."

"I reckon it'd be best to bring it up with Professor McGonagall before we make it official though," said Ron looking downtrodden at the prospect of her declining their proposition.

"Don't you worry Ron," reassured Harry somewhat morbidly because he knew that Poppy intended to inform his Head of House about his brain tumor soon, just in case something went wrong. After hearing that her star seeker had a serious muggle illness that might incapacitate him indefinitely, Harry was quite certain that she couldn't refuse his request. "Professor McGonagall is the one who appointed me as Gryffindor's seeker when we were tiny little firstys after that stunt that Malfoy pulled during our first flying lesson after all." The rest of their conversation consisted of fond remembrances until Harry saw fit to put an end to their chatting until he had finished the unpleasant task before him.

Unlocking the door and canceling the ceiling spell on it with a squelching sound, Harry waited for the tell-tale sounds of Ron's shoes thudding against the treads of the staircase. He had full confidence that his best mate had made it down the stairs when a shrill cry of "Won-Won! Their you are!" met his ears. Ye Gods! He had only told Lavender that cock-and-bull story right before they got back to the Tower, and it sounded like they were already in the first stages of romance, where friendship shifts into something more. If Hermione had been within hearing range, Lavender would no doubt be taking an unplanned vacation to the hospital wing for a weeklong stay, because Hermione had hexed her with something practically unheard of.

The next victim to enter their dorm was Dean. Harry proceeded to grill him mercilessly in hopes of ascertaining whether Dean had either been the shirt bandit or knew who it was. Harry was to be sorely disheartened, because Dean either didn't know who it was or wasn't going to snitch on a mate like that. Their conversation shifted from uncomfortable territory to even more uncomfortable territory when the youth slowly and rather subtly changed the conversation to relationships. Who did they think he was this evening? A bloody weird sod sitting in an office across from a red couch where they could just come in, plop down, and tell him all of their problems?

Harry really REALLY really couldn't be bothered with such trivial matters as Deans newly found feelings for Seamus at the moment. He had never liked the Irish bloke and it wasn't a closely held secret after how he had treated Harry that time when Ron had been forced to intervene. But Harry having found it hard to 'come out' to someone that day in Pomfrey's office, wasn't apathetic to his situation, so he provided a listening ear, when all he really wanted right now was for someone his own age to be there for him who understood what he was going through without needing any explanation first, not the other way around.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when Dean thanked him for hearing him out and for tolerating his silly proclamations of love for his best friend, which was his wordage, not Harry's.

Harry enthusiastically unlocked the door this time and lifted the silencing charm calling down the stairs, "Nev, could you come here please?"

A jovial Neville Longbottom entered their dorm room and plopped down on his bed in a carefree manner.

With a flourish of the wand, Harry secured the room for the third time in one evening.

"While I was waiting to talk to you, I overheard Ron and Lavender chatting each other up, and let me tell you, the sight was something that I'd rather have not been present for." Neville stated firmly. "I can only imagine how Hermione will take the news that Ron has his eye on another girl."

With a wicked grin, Harry said, "Um you see, Ron and Lavender getting together was kind of my Frankinstinean creation."

"Why did you egg her on for Harry?"

"Dunno. She wouldn't leave me alone, and I noticed that she'd been after Ron for some time, and I wanted to get her off my back, so vwala."

"Hermione would cut off your head and spit it on a stake, then post it on the castle gates, if she ever found out," said Neville.

"It's a good thing that you won't ever tell her now isn't it?"

"Uh huh. I'm certainly not going to be the messenger of that particular bomb shell."

"So who's your bet for the theft of my ratty old shirt?"

"I'm not going to throw stones, because I'm sure that you've already figured that out for yourself."

"The clothes aren't even mine. They're my fat pig of a cousins. I'm forced to wear his hand-me-downs because my relatives claim that they can't afford anything else."

"That's bull shit! They've been your guardians since your parents demise at the hands of you-know-who?"

"Yeah, if you want to call them that," said Harry waving his hand dismissively.

"Then they receive a stipend for your care." Harry fumed, he had only suspected before now that the Dursleys might be receiving funds for his day-to-day care now, but to have it confirmed was another thing entirely.

"You mean to tell me that every time they told me that they didn't have enough money to get me new clothes, or to buy extra food to provide me three square meals a day, was a lie." It was a rhetorical question.

"Why didn't you tell the Headmaster about their treatment of you?"

"I tried, he blew it off every time and swore that the blood wards would protect me from Voldemort and that was all that mattered."

"That's preposterous! He knowingly exposed you to their neglect and possible abuse on a regular basis! He's unfit to teach at any institution that governs children. If you ever wish to take affirmative action against him, just let me know and I will inform my Gran about his neglect. If you choose to do this though, understand that legal action will be a likely consequence."

Harry shook his head saying, "I have no desire for my home life to be splashed on the front page of the Proffet, and pursuing legal action would mean that details of my home life, which I don't wish to discuss further with you, would be known by everyone! And Poppy told the Headmaster about what went on, and he didn't do anything to fix it. For the longest time, I thought that she didn't care what happened to me every summer when she saw the evidence of their mistreatment of me. She recently told me that she did all she could and I'm grateful for her help. Now you know why I don't trust the Headmaster, but it's imperative that he doesn't find out."

After listening to Harry's story, Neville felt obligated to share his; he had no idea that in the doing he would prompt yet another story to spill from his friends lips.

"You remember me telling you about my Great Uncle Algie who dropped me out of a second story window to see if my magic had manifested yet?"

"Uh huh."

"Turns out that he and his wife, Enif had a daughter named Elisa. My Great Uncle Algie always cared for me in his own way, and I've come to realize that he cares for Elisa too."

"And how's that?"

"First you need to know a bit of background information. Enif and Algie thought for the longest time that they could have no children, but nine years ago, they had a lovely daughter named Elisa. They did their best to protect her from everything; after what happened to m-my parents, they hid her away from the world out of fear. I finally met her over the summer hols. Like most wizarding children before Hogwarts, she was home schooled. When we met for the first time, Great Uncle Algie had told us that she d been rather sickly. She was only nine and she didn't deserve what happened to her. You see, wizarding children are ordinarily very healthy, so you understand why her parents were on edge as to her state. They took her to St. Mongo s for testing. And her care was turned over to a healer Robertson."

Harry knew he recognized that name from somewhere, but where?

"The news came as a great shock to us all, especially those in the family who knew her most when she was diagnosed with muggle cancer."

Harry's face fell.

"What type," asked Harry kindly. "Can they treat her?"

"She's got AML; it's some kind of blood cancer. And the only treatment that's available in the wizarding world is a rare potion that children under the age of twelve can't take, so she was forced to undergo muggle treatment. Great Uncle Algie says that she's been given several treatments of a poison called chemotherapy. The healer warned her parents that the chemo can cause Elisa to lose her magic."

Trying to seem merely curious Harry asked, "What about radiation? It's an alternative form of treatment that the muggles use."

"Nah, it doesn't pose the same threat to wizards according to the healer. He said something about the chemo destroying a wizards magic like it does healthy cells since it can't differentiate between good and bad cells nor a wizards magic."

The lightbolb flicked on in Harrys mind. So this was why he was a candidate for the potion but this mysterious cousin of Nevilles wasn't. It made perfect sense why radiation therapy had been mentioned to him, but not chemo therapy.

"I'm sorry to hear about your cousin," said Harry sincerely. "How long does she have?"

"The healer and her muggle doctors say that she's got a high chance for survival if her cancer goes into remission."

"That's a good sign then," stated Harry trying to be optimistic.

"Nev," said Harry hesitantly. "Can I tell you something?"

"I don't know, can you," said Neville cheekily.

"You can't tell Ron or Hermione about it though." Neville wondered what was so serious that he didn't even want his closest friends to know.

"You can always count on me," said Neville. "My lips are sealed." Neville made as if to zip his lips.

Harry took in a deep breath, the better to prepare himself.

"When I fell off my broom, it wasn't just a fluke, nor was it a freak accident."

"I figured that one out for myself. Contrary to what you told Gryffindor tonight, you're too good of a flyer for that to be the case."

"I've been having severe migraines since the beginning of term, when they didn't lessen up, I went to Madame Pomfrey. She ran some tests and they revealed that I have a brain tumor." There he had finally done it, finally told one of his friends that he had cancer.

Neville gaped like a fish. Now Harrys question about the treatment of Elisa made so much more sense.

"Is it treatable?"

"Madame Pomfrey has set me up with a healer oddly enough, I think that its the very same healer who's treating your cousin. But they'll have to do muggle scans to see if the tumor will respond to the treatments first."

"You won't be given chemo, will you," asked Neville nervously. Surely they wouldn't give the boy-who-lived something that might make him a squib.

"Do you know a lot about the potion that they can use for treatment in people my age," asked Harry.

"Only that it's extremely risky, but has been shown to be successful without the risk of squibhood." Neville refrained from telling Harry however, that the potion cocktail was still very experimental, because cancer normally wasn't found in people over the age of twelve. Which was why the standard of care for people under the age of twelve was one that had less than desirable side-affects.

Harry was glad that Neville didn't freak out; his friend just seemed to get it without Harry needing to explain things to him.

"When are you meeting with healer Robertson? I don't want you to have to go without a friend by your side."

"On Friday after transfiguration."

"In the hospital wing?"

"Yeah. But you don't have too."

"I want too. No one should have to go through that process of diagnosis and treatment alone."

"I won't be alone. I've got Poppy."

"I mean a friend your own age," clarified Neville.

"If you really want to come then who am I to stop you," said Harry who was unused to having someone willingly stick by his side without freaking out like Ron or Hermione.

"But I'm curious, why did you choose to confide in me and not Ron or Hermione?"

"Because Hermione would want to study me like I'm some sort of science experiment and Ron would just be clueless as to what cancer is and then I'd have to explain it all to him. I'm just not ready to deal with either outcome yet."

"I understand, but don't wait too long to tell them, because if they find it out when everyone else does they'll be crushed."

"I know," sighed Harry.

"You up for a game of exploding snap after you're done interrogating Seamus?"

"You betcha!"

It was a testament as to how much Harry trusted Neville that he didn't feel the need to ask his friend to swear a magical oath of any kind.

"I'll see you in a few mate," said Neville as he exited the room once Harry had lifted the prerequisite spell on the door.

Seamus trudged up the stairs with a look of utmost dread on his face, and looked like he might faint when Harry closed the door behind him.

"So Seamus, why did you do something as peady as sell a scruffy old shirt of mine to a reporter?"

"I-who said I did anything?"

"It's no secret that you haven't gotten on with me ever since the Proffet started spouting lies about the Headmaster and I at the beginning of last year. Apparently Ron's deduction of points last year and dressing down of you did no good. Perhaps I should let it be known to Professor McGonagall that you've been pilfering things from people's trunks eh."

"T-that won't be necessary," confessed the sandy haired boy. "You're right. I did it; you turned me down for the team and allowed Dean to join. I wanted you to suffer for that," Harry honestly didn't see what Dean saw in Seamus.

"You would do something without thinking about the consequences?"

"What consequences? I told you because what can an ordinary sixth year like yourself do about it? Go running to your mummy and daddy about it? Oh that's right, your parents haven't been around since you-know-who killed them."

Harry tried to hide how much the Irish boy's words hurt.

Pointing his wand at the Irish boy, Harry threatened, "How dare you! If I ever catch you selling information or personal items of mine to the public for prophit, I'll sue you for liable. I'll have you know that I'm going to have Hermione cast wards on my trunk and belongings to prevent my things from walking off in the future. And you're not welcome at the DA meetings anymore. Its clear that you can't be trusted. Do you still have the counterfeit galleon that Hermione passed out last term?"

Seamus rummaged through his trunk, tossing clothes, books, and what looked suspiciously like a dirty magazine helter-skelter on the floor. Harry watched as the sandy haired youth found the galleon and flung it at Harry, it made a clanging sound as it bounced off of the bedstead and onto the floor.

"You can have your sodding galleon. And I can learn to defend myself without your help," said Seamus snootily.

"And those methods of defending yourself won't be learned with Dean's help, I'll make those the terms for him and Cho staying in the DA."

That night Harry had one of his worst nightmares since the summer. He was in the department of mysteries standing by the veil, Sirius was there shouting at him, reminding him that it was his fault he died, then James appeared, shouting at Harry that he had died to save him and how did he repay him? By contracting some muggle disease that would cause him to become as weak as a clobber worm, making him a sitting duck for Voldemort, which would inevitably synch his fate; that Tom would be the victor and Harry both the victim of a megalomaniac and of cancer! Then Lily joined him, telling him that she had never wanted him, that she had been glad to have died, to get away from him, that the only reason he lived was so that none of the people He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had killed would have to put up with him in the afterlife. Cedric was there too, telling Harry that if he hadn't of insisted that they take the cup together he would still be alive, that it was Harry's fault he was dead. Cho came and backed him up. In the back ground of the dream he could hear Trelawney's voice repeating the prophecy over and over again. He could see Ron walking away from him when he found out, Hermione leaving him. Neville being jealous, Harry always got the limelight. Then Neville's parents appeared, screaming that it was his fault, his fault that they suffered a fate worse than death, the Death Eaters had tortured them because of him. Sevrus finding out about his cancer and refusing to brew the potions that Neville had hinted earlier that only someone as skilled as he could brew, then spreading the news to all sundry.

Harry was shaken awake by Neville. He could feel his throat burning, he needed water, but that required him to leaver himself upright and at the moment his whole head was throbbing in time with his heartbeat, which was the icing on the cake to the burning in his throat. He was sweating profusely. "Harry?" said Neville panicking which was perfectly understandable after hearing of his friends cancer. "Are you OK?" Harry nodded, he wasn't but there was nothing anyone could do about it.

In a voice scratchy from his screams, Harry asked, "Can you hand me the water pitcher and a goblet?"

Deciding that his friends present state called for some compassion Neville did more than hand him the requested items: he poured the water for his friend and handed it to him. "Do you want to talk about it mate," asked Neville hesitantly.

"Not yet," said Harry. "I'm not ready to think about it much less talk about it, but let's just say that some of the hellish nightmare stemmed from what I confided in you earlier." Neville gave him a sympathetic look but didn't respond, waiting for his friend to continue, or not, as he wished.

When several minutes had elapsed, Neville tried to reassure him by saying, "You just have to remember, nightmares aren't real. Even the ones that are memories are just that, memories. They're the past. Not the present. Not the future. You can't let them bother you. Or let them hurt you like this one must've."

"Thanks Nev," said Harry faking a yawn. He doubted that he'd be able to fall back to sleep after such a vivid nightmare, combined with his throbbing head, in fact, he would be lucky to keep up the facade of slumber long enough for his friend to fall back asleep, before he went in search of his pain potion, which was somewhere in his trunk. He vowed from now on to keep any potions or muggle prescriptions in the drawer of his nightstand.

After breakfast on Friday, they had the misfortune to encounter Malfoy and his group of sycophants which ended at the exchange of insults instead of hexes. As tempting as it was to throw a boil curse at Malfoys face, Harry knew he'd end up in detention for the rest of his life if anything happened to Slytherin's resident pretty boy.

"Shut it, Malfoy. C'mon, Ron, we're going to be late." Dragging Ron by the collar, Harry started for the Transfiguration classroom, ignoring the taunts of the other sixth-year Slytherins. "They're up to something," he said as they headed towards the Transfiguration classroom. "Not just Malfoy. The whole lot of them."

"Let it go, mate," Ron replied. "Either snog him or forget about him. Seriously, he's all you talk about these days."

"Eww." Harry scrunched up his nose. The mere thought of having anything to do with Malfoy that way was bad enough. Just breathing the same air was enough to make his skin crawl. "You saw what happened at breakfast when the mail arrived and Hogwarts read that article about Malfoys untimely release from Azkaban. Bet he paid off the Minister and donated loads of money to the war efforts or a disaster fund in order to buy his release. Even Dumbledore looked less erm " Harry fished for a word.

"Twinkly?" Ron suggested. "Well, most of that lot aren't happy with what happened at the Ministry," he continued as they walked into the classroom. "I mean Malfoy, Crabbe, and Nott were all tossed in Azkaban. Well, their fathers at any rate, 'cept Malfoy's is out, naturally. They want to get even, mate. Think any of them would let an opportunity to get off a good curse go by. After the whole school read about their death muncher daddys being imprisoned, while Lucky Lucy Lucius walked after gold exchanged hands?" He slipped into the seat next to Lavender and began gathering up parchment and quill for today's lesson.

"Still on about the Slytherins, Harry? Or is it Malfoy again?" Hermione asked as she arranged everything on her desk to her satisfaction.

"You too, Hermione?" Harry sighed. "Look, I know him, alright? He's been different this year, he's been different, strangely talkative, its eerie. He's up to something and he's got the rest of his House in on it as well. For Merlins sake, he's been following me around like a lost puppy. The other day for instance, when I stayed in the hospital wing an extra night per Poppys request," lied Harry smoothly (about it being Poppys idea anyways). "Malfoy just happened rather coincidentally to get burnt by his less than average friends winding up in the infirmary at the perfect moment. If that isn't suspicious then I don't know what is."

"This is all because he's taken a keen interest in your activities this term," Hermione declared in a huff. "Just get over-" She stopped abruptly as Professor McGonagall brought the class to order.

"Today, we'll be working on vertebrate Transfigurations. As you know, the mutation of one vertebrate form into another is fraught with difficulties so we'll be working within the same class. Can anyone explain why it would be easier to transfigure a toad into a salamander rather than into a hamster?"

As usual, Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"Anyone besides Ms. Granger?" McGonagall looked expectantly at the rest of the students. "No one? Perhaps I should remind the rest of you that we do have a library? That this material was covered in your reading for today? Ms. Patil, perhaps you can provide us with the answer?"

Parvati stared helplessly up at McGonagall. "You see, Professor," she stammered, "We've all grown so accustomed to Hermione providing the answer that we've all rather forgotten that we're expected to respond as well."

McGonagall's lips tightened into a thin line as a nervous titter ran through the room. It was a very brave, if ill-advised, method of saying 'I don't know'. Harry rather thought it sounded more like something Lavender would say. Or Ron, come to that. Hermione rolled her eyes and whispered, "Honestly."

"It's because toads and salamanders have more characteristics in common than do toads with hamsters, Ma'am," Neville volunteered, much to everyone's amazement. Except during Herbology, Neville never answered a question unless it was put to him directly.

"Five points to Mr. Longbottom," McGonagall said after taking a moment to recover from the surprise. "Though it would have been twenty had you stepped forward in the first place." It was a very subtle way of telling them that they'd lost their House fifteen points. "Now, everyone step forward and select a toad. Quick, quick! We've not got all day."

There was a mad scramble to the front and five minutes of chatter as they selected their toads. Seamus's, perhaps sensing disaster looming on the horizon, kept trying to escape. Lavender refused to touch hers and made Ron select one for her. Much to Lavender's disgust, it stared at her and flicked out its long tongue as though making an attempt to taste her.

Eyeing Lavender's toad, Ron pulled out his wand. "Stupefy," he called out loudly, sending the toad flying across the room.

"Oh, Won-Won," Lavender cooed as McGonagall deducted the five points they had just gained.

Harry had to fight to suppress a smirk at the way Lavender had gotten so possessive and clingy over his best mate; they'd been together what two days?

"Explain yourself, Mr. Weasley."

Ron gulped. "Well, the toad was trying to eat Lavender, so I thought maybe if I knocked it out for a bit she could get on with transfiguring it." It sounded even worse out loud than it did in his head.

McGonagall gave Ron a withering look that insinuated that she believed him to be on an intellectual level with the toad. "Please fetch it out from under Mr. Thomas' desk and revive the poor creature. A simple containment charm would keep the toad from annoying Ms. Brown. Surely you considered that? No?" Harry noticed elatedly that Dean and Seamus were sitting beside one another in their lesson today perhaps his impromptu chat with Dean was worthwhile after all. Though he strongly disapproved of the desire of Deans affections, who was he to dictate the dark skinned wizards life?

Ron blushed and shook his head, then scrambled off to fetch Lavender's Transfigurations assignment whilst half the class muttered containment charms of their own.

"For Merlin's sake," Hermione hissed as Harry kept his toad corralled. "You'd think Lavender had never touched a toad before." A few minutes later, she had transfigured her toad into a salamander and set to creating a nice terrarium for it to live in for the remainder of the lesson.

"You're not waving your wand properly," she stated a few minutes later after all Harry had managed was to turn his toad red. "More elbow, less wrist. See?" With a quick flick, she ended the transfiguration, and then spent the remainder of the hour changing her toad back and forth until Harry was sure the thing's wits were completely addled.

"Has anyone ever researched the cumulative effects of Transfiguration on lower class species?" he asked as he collected their work to be graded. His toad had the long neck and skin color of a salamander, but was still unfortunately more toad-shaped than it should be. Hermione's salamander was curled up on a rock charmed to stay warm and looked rather befuddled when he picked it up.

Hermione's face took on that blank look it acquired when she was accessing her vast store of knowledge. "I'm not really sure. I recall a vague reference from a monograph by Desiree LaForge of Beauxbatons on the importance of retaining gender differentiation when transfiguring mammals. She stated that some animals could become androgynous if forced into sex changes too frequently. Excellent question, Harry!"

Before they could leave the class, Professor McGonagal said, "Next time we will be transfiguring invertebrates into vertebrates. Why you might ask, these steps are necessary to prepare you for your term long assignment."

"And what's that," asked Dean dreading the answer.

"All sixth years get the opportunity to see if they have the innate ability to become an anamagi. Its a complicated process and I need to see before we begin it, that my pupils have the necessary skill at transfiguration to attempt it without risking their own lives. I won't lie and say that the process is simple, but it's a worthwhile indver." And with that, the transfiguration Professor had concluded her lecture and the students had finished their practical for the day.

It was hard to keep back the grin. Hermione was, at times, very easy to divert. Now he could make it to the infirmary in time to meet the specialist and even dodge a certain Slytherin whom had been clinging to him like super glue of late knowing his friend would be holed up in the library researching the answer to a question he didn't care anything about. Picking up a quill that Hermione had dropped, he followed her into the corridor, grinning as he realized she was still rambling on about his question.

Harrys stomach was tangling itself in knots at the realization that he had mistakenly told Poppy that he had a free period first thing in the morning, which consequently meant that he had kept the specialist waiting for over an hour. Not exactly the first impression that one wishes their healer to have of them, now is it?

A/N: Hope you liked the chapter. It was more of a filler chapter, but some things were still accomplished. Lol The last line was put in their as Harry making an error in his timetable because I haven't done my research for the chat with the healer yet and needed it to be delayed for a few more days.

Harry is not going to have multiple animagus forms, nor is the process going to be an easy one. That being said, if he manages to accomplish the skill, any preferences for his form? Note: no magical creatures will be considered as I hate the clich , though Harry being his reckless self will still be stubborn and try to become one.

Who expected that Neville would be the first of his friends that Harry would tell? Ron's character will be redeamed, his little stunt was a ploy to gain Lavender's favor and hack off Hermione.


	8. Chapter 8 Dark Contemplations

Diagnosis

A/N: This chapter has a lot of medical facts and stuff I made up. Let me know how plausible the fictitious stuff is. I'm going to need some reassurance, because the fic is going to have a lot of medical jargon in it since Harry is a cancer patient after all. If you like it let me know and let me know if you dislike it so I know what I'm doing wrong. Let me know what you guys thought of the chapter; I would have posted it yesterday, but unfortunately, after I had reformatted the entire chapter, I closed out of the document before saving a copy. That was more than frustrating, since I had to start over. The next chapter should be out in a day or two.

The information about the side effects of radiation therapy was taken from www dot texasoncology dot com. I know about chemotherapy but very little about radiation, so I did my research. After all, a cancer fic isn't a good one unless the proper research is attempted.

Disclaimer: I'm not gaining any money from writing this. In fact, I'm losing it by taking the time away from my studies which is paid for.

Chapter 8: Dark Contemplations

Harry walked down Hogwarts corridors at a fast clip. In fact, he was sure that Snape would give him detention for galloping through the halls like a race horse on speed. Thankfully for Harry, Professor Snape was at present beginning to lecture a group of first year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Therefor he was too preoccupied to be bothered with such minor infractions.

Harry thanked God that he ran into no one…that was until he reached the hospital wing. Why was Neville blocking his way? Oh yeah, that's right, he had told the boy that he could accompany him here. Where did his brain go, on vacation to the Caribbean Isles or something? Surely he wasn't suffering memory loss this early…Poppy had made it sound like the more severe symptoms wouldn't hit him yet…no it was just wishful thinking on his part that he could go through his cancer treatments and anything else alone as he always had. He wasn't used to having a loyal friend their for him through thick and thin.

Neville broke Harry out of his revelry by saying, "You're late. When I got here, I thought that you'd already be here, so I went in. She about had a coronary when she saw who it was. I asked her if I could stay with you, and the healer was the one who answered in the affirmative. He said that as long as you wanted me here for moral support, it was okay with him."

"But h-how d-did you get here before me? McGonagall's practical lasted longer than usual today," spluttered Harry, not ungrateful for his friend's unwavering presence and support, but just unaccustomed to it.

Neville winked at Harry.

"So you three thought that you were the only ones who were aware of Hogwarts many secrets…"

"No, Fred and George were the ones who gave us the means for finding our way so to speak."

"You'll have to tell me all about it sometime, but healer Robertson has other patients besides you. And the last thing we want is the Headmaster to arrive before the healer leaves. Though I must say, as much as Filch and Professor Snape (Harry smiled when Neville didn't stutter out his most feared professor's name) were always on the prowl, how could I've gotten away unscathed without some knowledge of the secret passageways?"

"Dunno," said Harry shrugging his shoulders. "I guess that I'm so ignorant of all things magical that I was under the impression that you had to have access to, the secret to Ron, Hermione, and my own success, to navigate such a large castle so well as to beat me to my own appointment."

"After you, my Royal highness," replied Neville, trying to alleviate his mates anxiety a bit.

Neville followed Harry into the hospital wing after holding the door for the raven-haired boy to proceed him.

"Come on in boys," said Poppy cheerily. "Sit on that bed Harry." Poppy gestured to a vacant bed. Harry faltered upon spotting the tray of vials, gaws, a tourniquet and a needle beside the bed. He hadn't signed up for a blood draw today, nor had he consented to get any injections just yet.

Harry's attention was distracted upon the appearance of a tall, blond haired man.

Ye gods! He was sex on legs, even though he had on scrubs with little dinosaurs tussling with one another on them. If Harry hadn't been aware that the magical oncologist worked in pediatrics, there would be no doubt in his mind now.

Crossing to the bed, Harry gracefully sat down. Reassuring himself that he could suitably distract himself from the tray beside him and what it might involve as long as he kept ogling the man who now stood in front of him.

Neville came to stand beside his friend.

"Hello, Harry. I'm healer Robertson, but feel free to call me Dr. P or Peter if you wish." Harry's lips twitched. He could sus why the children both muggle and wizard alike came up with the first nickname.

Harry reached out his hand and shook the wizard's proffered hand. "I'm Harry Potter, but just Harry will do. Please refrain from referring to me by any of those ridiculous titles that the Proffet and the wizarding world in general has decorated me with."

"I think that I can do that Harry. Who is your friend?"

"Healer Robertson, meet Neville Longbottom." Healer Robertson stood their running over what his patient had told him and how he had introduced his friend. He recognized that last name from somewhere…ah yes, he was related to Elisa, his only other patient of magical status over the age of four.

"It's nice to meet you both," said the healer with a kind smile.

"I'm glad that you have someone your own age here to walk with you on this journey Mr. Potter. Because no one should have to go through this alone."

"I wasn't alone before Neville found out, Poppy said she would be here for me," said Harry looking at Poppy, who had been strangely quiet after she had invited them into her ward, for reassurance.

"That's all well and good, but unfortunately, she won't be able to be with you throughout the entire process as she has other patients to tend too. Now, your friend here can be there to provide you with something from your normal every-day life that reminds you through the roughest of times that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. You may think that I'm being rather pessimistic about matters considering that I am an accredited oncologist, but your case is a rare one Mr. Potter."

Harry gulped.

"Just how bad is it going to get? Everyone keeps telling me that this oober rare potions regimen is going to be complete and utter hell but no one has actually told me what it involves. Since I'm the potential patient here, I think that I'm owed at least an explanation of the basics of what I'm about to get myself into."

"So you're definitely seeking treatment then," said Poppy brightly.

"Yeah, unless the muggle tests reveal that I'm hopeless."

"Don't think like that," said Neville firmly. "You've got to keep smiling and thinking positive lest you let the cancer get the better of you."

"Is that the truth," inquired Harry of his healer. "Or is it a load of bollix that Poppy and Neville are telling me so that I'll put forth an effort to live to see another day?"

"Study's have proven that a patients outlook on life, state of mind, and support system play a large part in how their body handles the therapy."

Harry was pleased to hear that he could do something that'd determine if the cancer-or as he'd started thinking of it-the other Voldemort killed him or not. This was all he needed to hear all along, that he could do something on his own to determine his fate.

"Now it's time we get to the reason that I'm here," said healer Robertson interrupting Harry's musings. "How are you feeling?"

"Erm…"

"How articulate," teased Neville.

Why did medical professionals always start off like that? If he had been the picture of good health than he wouldn't be here now would he?

"Apart from a few minor headaches and a bout of dizziness during Gryffindor's Quidditch practice the other day, pretty well."

Neville scoffed. If the night before last was any indication, the stubborn Gryffindor had been anything than 'fine'.

Deciding that Harry's health and overall safety mattered more than the possibility that he would royally tick him off by sharing this information, Neville cut in," Harry awoke the other night from a nightmare, and I could tell that he had a migraine. This wasn't the first time I noticed him have a migraine recently either." Harry glared daggers at Neville.

"Was the nightmare anything like the visions that he's been afflicted with," asked Poppy all businesslike.

"Nah, normally after a vision, he chucks up and his scar is inflamed. That wasn't the case this time."

Neville figured that since healer Robertson was going to be Harry's primary physician for the near future that he might as well tell it like he saw it.

"Well that's a relief," said Poppy letting out a sigh of relief at the news that her patient hadn't suffered yet another foray into you-know-who's mind during this turbulent time in his life yet.

"As you already know, some of your treatments are muggle in nature, and muggle technology doesn't mesh well with magic, or in a place where magic is performed regularly. The radiation therapy that you'll be given requires use of imagery equipment that won't work at St Mungo's. This means that you'll be going back and forth to a muggle children's hospital, sometimes four to five times a week. Have you ever used a portkey?"

Harry's stomach sank at the memory of the last time he had traveled by portkey. If he hadn't pressured Cedric into taking the cup with him…

Harry gnawed his lip and then replied, "Yeah, though they're not my favorite mode of wizarding transportation. Is their another way?"

"There are other methods of travel, but they either pose risks to your health: like the floo, it gets you to your destination in an expeditious manner, but the germs that one could pick up along the way are hardly worth it. The Hogwarts Express could get you partly their, but would take too much time out of your school schedule. And you haven't learned to appearate just yet."

Harry sighed exasperatedly.

"Alright, I suppose that the more I use portkeys, the easier it will get for me."

"The portkey will be attached to a medical alert bracelet that you are going to ware at all times. The bracelet has the added benefit of storing a magically updated version of your medical chart. This will prove advantageous if you're ever in a medical crisis, because the healer who first gets your case won't have to hunt for a copy of your chart. All they'll have to do is cast a spell that all healers know just in case they ever come into contact with a patient in your situation."

"But…I thought that only really old people or really ill people ware those." The healer had to refrain from crushing his teenage patients' spirit by telling him that he was in fact going to become one of those really sick patients during some phases of his cancer treatment.

"If it's the looks of the bracelet that you're worried about, you ought not worry about that. The bracelet can either be charmed invisible or we can charm it into a design that is more appealing to you."

Harry thought about it for a minute then said, "Can I see the bracelet first?"

"Sure," replied the healer, pulling out a silver bracelet with several charms dangling from it.

"What are the charms for," asked Neville curiously, because he knew that his friend would want to know, but due to the appalling way he grew up, he wouldn't ever ask.

Pointing to the circular disk, the healer said, "This one is where your medical chart will be stored. It serves no other purpose," pointing to the cat shaped one, he said, "This one is the portkey that'll get you as close as possible to the muggle hospital that you will be going to for your treatment," lastly, the healer pointed to the charm that was an exact replica of St. Mungo's symbol he said, "And this one is the portkey that will take you to St Mungo's in case of emergency."

"How are the two portkeys activated," inquired Harry.

"The one for the transportation to and from the muggle hospital requires no activation phrase because if there's ever an emergency of the Dark Lord variety you might need to disappear silently and with no indication of your intended destination." That made perfect sense to Harry.

"And the other one…"

"You tug on the portkey saying 'mickey mouse' and you'll arrive in our intake area where a healer will be there to assess your problem."

It sounded simple enough to Harry. Though he thought it only practical for the bracelet to remain invisible in case he was ever captured and needed a way of escape, that way no one could see the bracelet, thus the death eater holding him captive would have no reason to remove a means of escape from him that they didn't know he had in the first place.

"The bracelet is quite nice looking and all, but given the circumstances of the war, it's probably a good idea for you to charm it invisible, if that's not too much trouble."

"It's no trouble my boy," reassured the healer squeezing his knee in affirmation.

"Hold out your left wrist," said healer Robertson. He fastened the silver metal bracelet around Harry's wrist. And Harry watched in awe as it turned invisible with a mere flick of the healer's wand. The simplest of magic's still fascinated him which set him apart from all of pureblood society if one knew the tale-tail signs to look for that he was muggle raised.

"You can't undo the bracelet now that it's on. This is a safety precaution against some death eater stealing it off you and either accessing your medical records or finding the location of the muggle hospital where you're being treated and attacking it. I'm the only one who can remove the bracelet from your wrist."

"That doesn't prevent them from legilimensing one of my friends to get the location from their minds, or one of the muggle children who I might befriend does it?"

"It's not full proof, but it does make that scenario less likely."

Harry felt a bit better upon hearing that he wasn't going to get the muggle children massacred just by going to a muggle hospital necessarily.

"Now that that's taken care of, I need to record your vitals. This tedious procedure will be done quite frequently throughout your treatment, especially in the muggle hospital. I brought with me some more outdated versions of the muggle equipment to do this with today, so that when you go to the hospital tomorrow…"

Healer Robertson was interrupted by a confused and annoyed Harry, "Wait a minute, no one told me that I'd be starting radiation this quickly. I need some time to prepare myself."

"In the muggle world, you'd have made this decision weeks ago," said Poppy. "Cancer is a fast paced disease, the longer treatment is delayed, the worse the cancer gets. I'm sorry, but healer Robertson is right. We simply can't delay treatment any longer."

"Okay, but…it's all a bit overwhelming…"

"I know; you aren't the first patient of mine, Mr. Potter. Trust me, it's going to be alright. You'll survive the diagnostic tests that will tell us how much treatment to give you, and how fast to administer it. Just like you'll survive the two potions that we'll give you. And the muggle radiation won't hurt a bit."

"What are the two potions? And what are their uses?"

"The first potion is called Celmosphocide. It's a MCDI."

Harry stared at his healer like he had grown a second head. What the bloody hell was that supposed to stand for?

"What exactly does MCDI stand for?"

"It stands for Magical Core Destruction Inhibitor," a spike of fear shot through Harry at the sound of that…it sounded so dangerous. Healer Robertson continued, "In some wizards like yourself, your magic masks your symptoms, which as I'm sure you already know, enables the tumor to grow unchecked and unnoticed by the wizard much longer than it would in a muggle or squib. If we don't prescribe the MCDI your magical core might burn out which would make you a squib as surely as taking muggle chemo would. To put it simply, your magical core is depleting itself at an alarming rate because it's trying to stop the tumor from growing and the symptoms from worsening. Your magic is fighting a losing battle, and this process is only going to make it harder on your body the longer it continues. The MCDI will make your body more susceptible to the chemo like magical agent and the radiation, which will increase your chances for survival. If you choose not to take the potion, it would result in your life span being shortened significantly if you undergo treatment, which you said you wish to do."

"Okay. How often will I have to take the potion, and what are the side-effects?"

"The potion is taken daily. It has to be administered intravenously or through a catheter or port."

"Um, what are those? They sound scary."

"I'll get to that in a minute. As for the side-effects, I have a leaflet for you to read for both your magical treatment and your muggle treatment. I'll give them to you before you leave, because I think that you might want to read them in private. Though the MCDI has the fewest and more enjoyable side-effects out of all three. Your magical power will increase. Since you're going to be undergoing treatment of one kind or another for quite some time, your magic will mature earlier. I dare say, your friends will envy your magical skills before long," said the healer in an effort to cheer up his patient.

"Wicked," exclaimed Neville. "I wish that were me!"

"No you don't," said Harry firmly.

"I didn't mean it like that Harry," backpedaled Neville quickly. "I told you about Elisa the other day, but I wish I could find a source that would increase my magic."

"I also heard that you've been experiencing some double vision. It's standard procedure for patients with brain tumors to be given steroids, which will decrease the inticranial pressure in your brain," said the healer, reaching into his bag and pulling out a bottle of muggle pills, which rattled as he handed them over to Harry. "Take them as the instructions on the bottle say, and they should help keep at bay any more neurological symptoms from emerging. However, seizures are still likely too happen, that's why tomorrow, the other members of your cancer team will prescribe an anticonvulsant to you which should prevent you from having as many seizures."

"But I haven't had a fit yet," said Harry puzzled.

"As the tumor continues to grow, you will probably have seizures as a result. Just take the medication that they give you. I promise, if you ask any kid their who has a brain tumor if they're on an anticonvulsant or steroids, they'll tell you that they are. The side effects from these two types of drugs should have no real impact on your life. They're usually minor in nature."

"The next phase of your treatment is the magical chemo agent which is called Todesgefahr. Much like it's muggle counterpart, the side-effects are rather nasty. I won't go into them all right now. The dosage depends upon the type of tumor you have and it's size. Your treatments will be given via the same 'line' as you're MCDI, though it will be given in cycles."

"What's a cycle mean in that context? And what's a line, because I'm sure you're not talking about something as harmless and boring as a geometric line." asked Harry, needing to know, but not wanting to at the same time.

"Due to the toxicity of the potion, your body can't recover from the effects of the potion fast enough to fight off the cancer successfully if we give it to you daily, so you will be on it for a few days, then the potion will be discontinued for two to seven days, depending upon the dosage and how well your body can handle it. I'll get to your other question in a minute, but you're indeed correct that a line doesn't mean the same thing as a line in geometry. I wouldn't burdon yu with even more information than I already have, if it were of so little consequence."

'Well that's reassuring.' Thought Harry sarcastically.

"And who's going to brew the potions? Neville told me that Elisa can't take the potion, why is that?"

The experienced healer chuckled at his new patient's inquisitiveness. "One question at a time Harry," said healer Robertson with a chuckle. "Children under the age of twelve can't take the potion, because it's too toxic. It would kill them. So they're given chemotherapy instead. That right there is why I'm certified in both worlds. Younger magical children need specialized care from a magical oncologist, but have to take muggle treatments in order to get well. It makes things rather complicated you see. There's only one potioneer who I know of that has the skills to brew these complex potions…"

"Will the potion sap Harry's magic," asked Neville. "Elisa will probably be a squib or a very weak witch, I don't want to see that happen to Harry."

"No. That's why the potion was invented in fact. Witches and wizards over the age of eleven no longer have to worry about being turned into squibs if they seek cancer treatment, though their treatment can prove debilitating in other ways."

Stealing his friend's thunder and changing the subject back to grounds on which he could comprehend, Harry asked, "And who is the potions master who will brew the potions?"

"Professor Snape."

Harry knew it!

"There's some animosity between the two of us, I'm not sure he'll agree to do it if he finds out that the potions are for me."

"He'll have too, the oath that he took upon being a certified potions master requires him to treat anyone that he can if asked, regardless of his own personal feelings."

"Well then…" trailed off Harry.

"Didn't he already agree to teach you potions," asked Poppy.

"Yeah, but that's different…it doesn't require him to save my life or anything, just tolerate my presence."

"Trust me, Harry. He will agree to do it gladly," said Poppy. She left unsaid that he was duty bound because of the life debt he owed to James had been passed down to Harry. For that would only trouble her favorite patient even further.

"I hereby release the confidentiality oath that you took for me," stated Harry, feeling compelled by something-was it magic herself, to say those exact words.

"Okay, then healer Robertson and I will go talk to him tonight, once the healer has acquired the lists of rare potions ingredients that he needs to get to brew the potions." She yet again withheld from him that she would require an Unbreakable Vow from her colleague before revealing anything to the man, because she didn't want him to be forced to tell everything to Dumbledore or you-know-who, as his spy status might require him to do otherwise.

"Is that sufficient time for you to have everything ready," asked Poppy of healer Robertson.

"Yes."

Looking at his wrist watch with trepidation, healer Robertson said, "Oh dear me, the time is slipping away from us. I've got to get on with things, if I'm going to be back here by nightfall. Now Harry, have you had a muggle physical before?"

Harry shook his head sadly.

"You mean your relatives never took you to the doctor when you were little," asked Robertson with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Only when I broke my arm or split my head so badly that it couldn't go untreated; they took me to hospital. They didn't give me a physical though because my Aunt told the nurse that I had had one just a week ago. Which was a lie, but that's neither here or their."

"Alright, then I'm definitely glad that I brought the muggle items to show you before your appointment tomorrow. The physical exam won't hurt at all."

Healer Robertson took out an otoscope and looked in Harry's ears. Then he shined his lit wand in front of Harry's eyes, which made Harry squint. Seeing that his pupils were of normal size made the healer happy because it meant that his inticranial pressure wasn't too awfully elevated, which was a known symptom of brain tumors. The healer next took hold of Harry's right wrist and searched for his pulse point, then pressed down with two fingers: counting his heartbeats for a minute. "Your heart rate is up a bit, has this happened before," asked the healer.

"Not when I was at rest. Why?"

"I was just wondering, because if the tumor is located on the brain stem, blood pressure and heart rate/rhythm irregularities can occur. It's something that we need to keep an eye on, though it's probably nothing to really worry about."

Harry smiled and said, "Only when I've just won a Quidditch match against Slytherin and thoroughly shoved it in Malfoy's face."

"It's more than likely just your nerves, since this is your first physical after all," said the healer continuing his exam. He reached into his bag which seemed to hold more than it's capacity and pulled out a stethoscope to listen to Harry's breathing and instructed, "Breathe in, and out again." As he moved the stethoscope around on his chest and back after Harry had undone his robe a bit so that the stethoscope could be closer to his skin in order for the healer to hear. The stethoscope was cold against his skin, even though their was a layer of cloth separating it from his skin which was his shirt. He instructed Harry to breathe in and out again, once his robes were undone: the better to hear his breathing.

Putting the stethoscope away, the healer said, "Now I need to get your blood pressure." He reached into his bag and withdrew an old-fashioned blood pressure cuff and bulbous. "Give me your left arm and just relax. The cuff will get a bit tight so that it can get an accurate reading."

Harry relaxed, as healer Robertson wrapped the cuff around his upper arm just above the elbow. Then his healer took the other end which was attached to the cuff by what looked like plastic tubing of some kind, against his elbow and squeezed it several times. The cuff tightened uncomfortably around his arm.

Just as he was about to demand like he was Draco sodding Malfoy, to 'take that ruddy thing off of him right bloody now', the cuff deflated.

"We're all done," said Robertson unsticking the velcrowing the cuff then unwrapping it from his arm.

"Now I'm going to take your temperature. Just put this under your tongue and hold it there," said the healer.

Harry did as he was told until he heard a beeping noise coming from the thermometer in his mouth.

Healer Robertson was relieved to see that Harry's temperature was within normal range.

"How did that work," asked Harry. "Thermometers are muggle devices that use batteries."

"I cast a charm on a transfigured one, so that it looks like what you're going to see tomorrow and took your temperature with a spell. I deceived you this way so that you aren't puzzled tomorrow when they take your temperature this way."

"Fare enough," acquiesced Harry.

"I'm going to record everything else with a diagnostic spell so that we can get on with things."

"Okay, but what else do we have to get on with," asked Harry apprehensively.

After recording Harry's weight the healer said, "You weigh 9 stone 9 pounds, which roughly equals 135 pounds. This suggests that you have suffered from slight malnutrition during some point in your life."

"I'm aware of the problem," interrupted Poppy before he could start questioning her patient about things that he didn't want to discuss with anyone. "I had planned to start him on some nutrition potions this term, but when I found the cancer…that was the farthest thing from my mind."

"But you know that that's a sign…"

"Yes," said Poppy. "I've already taken care of things. He's admitting that it happened and that's a start."

Harry didn't like the tone of their conversation, or the way they seemed to be talking around him instead of to him, not that he wanted to be a part of their conversation, which centered on how much he weighed. He knew that this was a result of how he was treated at "home". He was grateful when Poppy reassured his healer, because he REALLY didn't feel like discussing his family dynamics right now or ever for that matter.

"What else are you going to do," asked Harry slightly hysterically. He had a feeling that he knew, that tray of instruments wasn't just sitting beside him for no reason. They were going to draw his blood, which made sense since the muggle doctors would need lab results to know that he was healthy before they started radiation therapy, didn't they?

"I need to take a blood sample to make sure that your kidneys and liver are functioning fine, because one of the potions you're taking can cause kidney function to decrease, and sometimes liver failure. It'll only hurt for a minute."

Harry knew that that was a cock-and-bull story, because the only other time he had gone to hospital as a child, he had needed stitches, which involved a needle to numb his skin before they sowed his forehead back together and it had hurt quite a bit. The next morning, his forehead was red. He never figured out what the source of the discoloration was from; it eventually went away though.

"I'll be right here," reassured Neville, giving his right shoulder a squeeze. "Elisa says that after a while, all of the needle sticks and tests stop hurting after a time, because you get used to them when you have cancer." Somehow, that failed to reassure Harry one ounce.

"Are you ready to begin then, Mr. Potter?" healer Robertson asked as he slipped on white stretchy gloves that resembled the one Dudley once brought home from Hospital filled up like a balloon.

Harry nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Lay back," Pomfrey told him, helping him to get situated and comfortable. He felt his friend Neville take his right hand, squeezing it to let him know he was there if he needed him. Neville didn't care what his friends would say if they knew he was sitting beside his friend and holding his hand like a sissy. Harry needed him right now and that was all that was important. Harry gulped as the healer appeared above him. The man really was intimidating when he towered over you with a tourniquet in hand.

"I'm going to take a few vials of blood. You'll feel one pin prick and before you know it, it will be over," his healer explained.

Harry tried to relax, as healer Robertson took his left arm in hand and wrapped the tourniquet around his arm just above the elbow and tied it tightly with a slip knot. Harry felt a pinch as the healer pinched his skin to make sure that his patient was hydrated enough to get a vane. If the skin didn't go back to normal shortly after being pinched then the patient was dehydrated in most cases. He then traced a vane that looked promising on the inside of his elbow with a finger. It was bouncy which meant that the vain was a suitable one. He then wiped Harry's arm with a cotton ball with alcohol on it to sterilize the area. Then he stuck him with the needle.

Harry wished he had looked away before the needle sank into his skin. The very sight of the needle made him ill.

Harry felt as if Dracula himself were sucking his very lifes blood right out of him; the thought was disconcerting to say the least. Though to be fair, if Severus Snape had been the one wielding the needle instead, the resemblence to a vampire would've been even more apt.

Removing the butterfly needle, Robertson collected the vials of blood he needed.

Neville released Harry's sweaty hand.

Pressing a cotton ball onto the puncture sight, healer Robertson said, "Can you hold the cotton ball for me Harry while I clean up? As soon as the bleeding stops, I can heal you right up."

Harry nodded.

When healer Robertson returned from Pomfrey's office after washing his hands, he told Harry that he could remove the cotton ball. All bleeding had stopped, so the handsome healer performed a quick healing spell.

"We're all done," said healer Robertson jovially. "Earlier you asked me what I meant by a 'line'. It's time I provide you with an answer."

Harry winced. From the sound of it, it wasn't going to be anything he wanted to know more about.

"Muggles find it easier to administer some drugs by other methods than prescribing pills or giving shots. Muggle chemo, and the magical equivalent are two examples of medication that can't be ingested. Nor can they be given by injection as they can irritate the skin, because they are so potent. In addition, this is also a better way to get the potions into your system. Most of your treatment plan involves a potion that simulates chemotherapy in many ways, as I've stated earlier."

Not for the first time that day, Harry wished furtively that he was in ancient runes with Hermione, or even better, in the common room with Ron playing a game of wizards chess.

"Your intravenous Todesgefahr will enter through a line in your chest in liquid form from a pump that regulates how fast it flows into your body," explained healer Robertson easily. "And your MCDI will be given to you either through your Hickman, or the port with a needle. It will be given to you in shot form, if you have the port. If you choose the other option, then it'll be injected into a lumen of the Hickman."

"Line?" Harry continued to be baffled. How was anything going to enter through a line into his body?

"Not like a geometric line. In medical terminology, a line refers to a small tube that's inserted into your body in order to give you fluids, medications, or blood."

"Inserted?" Harry whipped his head around to look at Poppy growing scared. They were going to insert something in him and then pump copious amounts of potions that were more closely related to poisons than your garden variety potion into his body? Were they sure this was going to help him rather than harm him?

Poppy wanted more than ever to scoop Harry up, and wrap him in her arms, protecting him from every danger that haunted the boy. But she could hardly kill Voldemort for him. And she could do less than that to alleviate his pain and suffering from the cancer. However, she could instruct a house elf to dose is pumpkin juice for all the meals until tomorrow when he left for a muggle hospital with a calming draft. His potion intake was supposed to be limited, but a calming draft or two before treatment wasn't going to hurt him. This would lessen his anxiety of what was to come from boiling point to a manageable level.

The fear in his eyes almost broke Poppy's heart.

"You'll have either a Hickman line or a port placed before your treatments start. It's so you don't need an IV. Those can't stay in throughout the entirety of your treatment without needing to be removed and put in a different location every few days, and you'd be poked with needles often."

"Stay in?" Harry didn't like the sound of anything involving his cancer treatment. He felt his hands begin to tremble and Goosebumps rise up on his arms.

Neville felt bad for his friend. Seeing Elisa go through chemotherapy was different because he wasn't around for a majority of it. Now he was sitting their and had been listening to them talk about doing horrible things to his friend with the hopes that he would endure it all and come out on the other side.

"Yes. Once placed a Hickman line or port can stay in for the duration of treatment. They're very convenient," the healer said. "A Hickman is a catheter or tube that will be placed here," the oncologist used his left hand to point to a spot on Harry's chest near his right collarbone. "The catheter will hang outside your body and when it's time for your potions, the tubing that's there will be hooked up to the pump. It can also be used to draw blood, so there's no need for needle sticks."

"And the other option?" Harry asked terrified, his face paling more with every word Robertson said.

"A port is a small device placed under the skin near your collarbone. It's accessed by a special needle where it'll be connected to your Todesgefahr or whatever else you may need."

"But there's still needles?" Harry confirmed not liking that idea one iota.

"Yes. As your healer, I'd suggest the Hickman line with your aversion to needles and the other options it offers that the port cannot."

"You're letting me pick?" Harry asked, surprised. How was he supposed to pick one when he didn't know much about either option? What if he chose the wrong one?

"Yes, it's your body and you're the one having to deal with needles or tubing attached to your body. Both choices work well," his healer explained his reasoning. "As your healer, it's my job to provide you with your options and where necessary, my opinion, but you're the one actually going through this, not me. There are good qualities for both as well as bad ones."

"Do I have to make up my mind right now?"

"No, we just need to know your decision tomorrow after your MRI and the party, that's all."

Momentarily diverted from the seriousness of their discussion, Harry said, "What party? I thought that I was going to Hospital to get radiation treatment and one of those line thingys put in my chest, not for a sodding party."

"Every time a new patient is officially admitted into the hospital for cancer treatment, the ward throws a party for them. It gives all of the kids with cancer something to celebrate and a reason to have fun. It also gives you a way to make new friends who are going through the same things you are. Many of my patients say that the thing that's helped them through this most was the cancer support group, those are the people you will meet tomorrow. Most of them have been through what you have and understand what you're going through. They will be able to tell you far more about living with cancer as a teen than I can."

Harry smiled for the first time in this conversation.

"There's a few more details that I need to go over with you before you leave though, Todesgefahr is like an extremely toxic poison to your system. Throughout the treatment, it's important that you tell Professor Snape, or Madame Pomfrey if you get any on your skin. And there are hygienic techniques that I need to go over with you Poppy, about the side-effects later, if that's alright with you."

"Why in Merlins balls would I touch the potion," asked Harry.

"You wouldn't ever do it intentionally, but if you sicked up and it got on your skin, or the bag that the potion is in should have a hole in it…"

"Okay, I get the picture!"

"Why haven't you told him much about his radiation treatments," asked Neville timidly.

"Because I don't yet know which type he's going to receive, or how frequently he will be getting it. Though your friend has a point," said healer Robertson. "There's one possible side-affect that I've got to tell you about and you've got to take care of before tomorrow if you wish to father children someday."

Uh-oh.

"Radiation therapy can make you sterile…I'm sure that Madame Pomfrey can provide you with a private lavatory and a cup…"

Harry's face flamed.

"Just make sure to take care of things by tomorrow afternoon at one. That's when you'll need to arrive at the muggle children's hospital. I'll give you the details and address later this evening Poppy, so that Harry and the adult who accompanies him can apearate to a nearby alley."

"I thought you told me to use the portkey," said Harry.

"And you will for every visit where you can travel their independently after tomorrow, but I've got to set the coordinates for the portkey before you can use it, or you'll end up in Tenbucktoo."

"Harry, you also need to be aware of the fact that medications aren't smart like humans. They can't distinguish between good and bad cells. In the process of killing off the cancer cells, some good ones will be killed off, too."

"Is that why chemotherapy can make you a squib," asked Harry.

"Yes."

"So if there happen to be kids their who I recognize as relatives of a wizarding family, they're probably destined to be a squib," asked Harry.

"Unfortunately, 99% of those with magical blood who undergo chemotherapy lose their magic. And you're the only patient that I've ever had who was given Todesgefahr too. It's highly experimental, but you need your magic Mr. Potter, and it's the only chance you have to keep it and survive."

..:..:..

After healer Robertson left, Harry and Neville left the hospital wing. Casting a tempus charm, Harry shrieked, "Bloody hell! We missed lunch! I've got class in ten minutes."

"I'll go to the kitchens and pilfer something for you to eat after classes mate," offered Neville.

"Let me know if you want to talk about things later."

"No offense Nev, but after my disastrous meeting today, I'm not exactly in the talking mood. You were their, and heard it all, that's good enough for me," said Harry.

"You know where to find me if you do," replied Neville shrugging his shoulders.

..:..:..:..

After classes were finally over, Harry trudged back to the Fat Lady. He muttered the password and heaved himself into the common room. He was pleased to see that Neville had scrounged up some turkey sandwiches with mayo and some crisps for him. A note sat under a goblet of pumpkin juice that by the cool feel Harry could tell had a cooling charm on it that read:

Dobby gave this to me to give to you. He said he made it fresh just for you.

I've got an extra credit assignment to do for Professor McGonagall. Please try to suspend your disbelief that the imphamus Neville Longbottom is actually doing an extra credit assignment from your mind for a little bit. I'm only trying the extra credit angle with her at all, because the professor told me brutally honestly that I might not get good enough marks to pass transfiguration this term, if I wasn't proactive, hence the extra credit. You can find me in the library if you need me.

Nev.

Since his dorm mates had far more interesting things to do than stay shut up in their dorm room all day, Harry made his way their to peruse the leaflets that healer Robertson had given him. He needed to read them before tomorrow and this might very well be the only time he had to read them in complete solitude.

After shutting the bed curtains and casting a silencing charm around his bed to ensure that he would have complete privacy, Harry reached into his robe pocket and withdrew the first leaflet that read:

Side Effects and Complications of Radiation Therapy for Brain Tumors

He was finally going to find more out about the mystery that was radiation therapy, but was he prepared…

Radiation therapy usually is given over a six to eight week period, for five days at a time, followed by two to three days off, depending upon the dosage. Radiation therapy is commonly associated with some side effects. However, patients experience side effects at different rates and to different degrees. A dose that causes some discomfort in one patient may cause no side effects in another, and may be disabling to a third. Side effects of radiation therapy can be grouped into general and those pertaining to neurological, or brain function. General side effects may include:

• Hair loss,

• Skin irritation,

• Hearing problems,

• Nausea/Vomiting,

• Fatigue,

• Appetite changes, and

• Damage to salavatory glands.

Neurological side effects

The major side effect of radiation for brain tumors is damage to normal brain tissues, which can lead to mild, moderate, or severe brain damage. Newer radiation therapy techniques can limit these effects, but may not always eliminate them. Neurological side effects may occur immediately after treatment, a few weeks to a few months after the completion of treatment, or they may occur months or years after treatment and persist as long-term effects.

Harry was horrified! Radiation therapy could cause brain damage in rare cases! Why had healer Robertson failed to tell him this? Maybe it had never happened to any of his patients…or maybe it was one of those symptoms that drug companies and doctors had to tell you about, so that they wouldn't get sued if the worst were to happen…yes that was it! It happened to one in a million people and that one in a millionth person wasn't going to be him.

He had to try to beat this. Or he was just choosing a slow agonizing death over a quick one at Tom Riddle's hand. And he was no COWARD! If he had to risk these terrifying side effects in order to live then he would.

Immediately after treatment: Acute reactions occur immediately after treatment and are caused by radiation-induced brain swelling (edema). Symptoms can mimic the symptoms of your brain tumor, like speech problems or muscle weakness or those of increased intracranial pressure, such as headache, nausea, or double vision. Acute side effects are usually temporary and may be relieved by corticosteroids such as dexamethasone. Often, steroids are prescribed to be taken during the entire treatment so that acute side-effects are avoided or minimized. The steroid dose is gradually reduced and discontinued when treatment is completed.

So that was why healer Robertson had handed him that bottle of pills and told him to take them as prescribed on the bottle. Since his double vision was a sign of inticranial pressure, did that mean that the steroids he had been given would take care of it, so that he could fly again sometime soon? He made a mental note to ask Madame Pomfrey tomorrow before he left.

Weeks or months after treatment: So-called "early delayed" or sub-acute reactions commonly occur between one and three months after treatment. Symptoms include loss of appetite, sleepiness, lack of energy, and an increase in pre-existing neurological symptoms. Sub-acute reactions are thought to be due to temporary disruption to the nerve coverings. These symptoms are usually temporary, lasting about six weeks, the length of time it takes for myelin to repair itself. In some cases, however, recovery may take several months.

Another reaction that can occur weeks or months after treatment is swelling as a result of the build-up of dead tumor cells. The brain lacks an effective lymph system, the clean-up system of the body. Therefore, dead tumor cells are cleared away very slowly and radiation-induced cell death may cause rapid build-up of dead cells. The swelling that occurs as a result of the dead cells may cause an increase in neurological symptoms similar to the symptoms of the brain tumor.

Harry fought back the flood of tears that tried to fall, because he still had one more fucking leaflet to read.

Chemo potion:

Todesgefahr: this potion is the equivalent of muggle chemotherapy for wizards: the side-effects are thus closely related to those of chemotherapy agents:

Loss of body weight: and in extremely high doses, muscle mass as well

Nausea

Vomiting

Hair loss

Thrombocytopenia (Low Platelet Counts)

Weakened immune system, due to low ANC

Fever/infections

Sensitivity to touch

Body pain

Fatigue

Magical core destruction inhibitor: Celmosphocide

Sideaffects are usually minor in nature but include:

Temporary boost in magical power levels

Giddiness

Inability to sleep, due to excitability

(important note: patient should avoid taking copious amounts of other potions due to the possibility of drug reactions)

Harry folded up both leaflets and finally allowed the cascade of tears to fall. The information that he had heard all day hit him like a freight train. He couldn't take it anymore! At this moment, Harry wasn't the FUCKING chosen one, or the boy-who-lived, or Neville's friend, or any number of things that he was on any average day. He was just another cancer patient dealing with the reality of being stuck in a cancer riddled body for the first time, who could be disabled by the cancer treatments, or if he was lucky, he would die before that became the case.

Harry let it all out, sobbing uncontrollably into his pillow.

When he was done, Harry wiped his eyes. He had never before noticed how therapeutic the act of crying really was. Now everything that he had listened too today, or read was somehow more bearable. Yes he still wanted to talk to Neville about which device he should get put in him tomorrow, but it could wait until after dinner and his sodding meeting with the Headmaster.

..:..:..:..

Severus's POV

It was a devious beast of a problem.

My brewing had ground to a halt the previous evening after three days of dead ends, inert masses and over-reactions, amidst attempting to teach the masses of Hogwarts students how to brew the simplest of potions without blowing themselves up. In this case, theory and practice were not only not speaking to each other, they refused to even glance in each other's direction. So, abandoning practice completely for the moment, I decided to try to bend theory to my will. The result was that, some twenty minutes later, I was wading through discarded reactivity charts, ingredient substitutions and alchemical process diagrams. I was also getting nowhere. I rubbed my forehead and wished for a cup of coffee and one of those almond croissants from the bakery that my grandmother runs. Her croissants are the best around. If there was any single key, it was eluding me. It was more likely anyway to be a number of unrelated factors…I relented and let my hand fall to the hot mug of coffee at my side and raised it for a sip. The second I tasted it I spit it out, shoving myself back violently from the table, my chair tottering to the floor behind me. Where the hell had that come from? Who broke through the wards on my door that prevented anyone from even knocking on the door?

I was trying to complete a potion that would contain the curse in the Headmaster's hand from spreading, if successful, it would buy him another seven to nine months before claiming his life. But what did the old man expect would happen when you go messing with dark magical artifacts of that magnitude without taking the proper precautions?

..:..:..:..:..

Poppy's POV

Madame Pomfrey and healer Robertson stood outside Severus Snape's door. They stood their at a standstill; debating as to who was going to dare knock on the crass potion's master's personal lab door , which was more reminiscent of the patients ages that they treated than their own.

"You do it, I've been dealing with recalsatory patients all day. In addition to explaining things to Mr. Potter."

"No. I was forced to watch a boy whom I consider a son endure every blow you gave him by telling him what he will face for the next year or longer."

"Poppy, you know I had too…"

"Yes, but that doesn't change anything."

"Alright," huffed healer Robertson. "I'll do it."

..:..:..:..:..

Severus's POV

Jerked back into reality once more at the knock on his door, Severus hurriedly picked up the chair that he had knocked over in agitation, not startlement, because Severus Snape was never startled by anything, before the person who kept insisting to be let in like a bloody vampire was chasing them, knocked down his door and saw him standing their with a chair laying in the middle of the floor haphazardly.

"Come in," ordered Severus undoing the locking spell of his own invention so that whoever it was could enter.

Severus hadn't expected a man whom he could barely call an acquaintance to be the source of his 'agitation'. But he was interested when he saw Poppy Pomfrey standing in his door frame with a tall, blond and very handsome man with her. From the looks of it, the friend of hers had been the one to knock despite the wards on his door that distracted everyone from noticing it unless they had something pressing to see him about.

"I've been working on that special potion you requested of me," said Severus with a nonchalant wave of his hand, which was intended to hurry her along so that he could get back to the potion for the Headmaster. "But my dunderheaded students seem to only add to my already full workload."

"You needn't continue it," stated Poppy confidently.

"Why ever not," asked Severus curiously. "The problem isn't going to just fix it's self. The reason for your request of me isn't going to just go away because you want it too."

"That's why I'm here," said Poppy. "The man beside me is a former colleague of mine. Healer Robertson, meet Professor Snape."

Sevrus recognized the name…wasn't he an oncologist…

Why was an oncologist at Hogwarts of all places?

"I'm already acquainted with him," retorted the potions master stiffly. "We met briefly at a muggle medical confrance that we both attended when I was going to muggle university to study the basics of muggle healing…"

"Why are you two here in my personal lab together?"

"Why I'm here about the very same patient that I asked you to brew that potion for," said Poppy. And with that, Severus's worst fears and nightmares were confirmed, because he'd only be here to treat Potter for one reason. Severus wasn't the least bit interested to play nursemaid to Potter and potion brewer as well. For the love of all that's holey, tutoring the spawn of James Potter was going to be difficult enough…but now.

"But…that means…a student can't have…"

It was a rare thing that struck Severus Snape speechless, and Poppy had managed to do it. Little did he know that she was about to yank the proverbial rug right from underneath his feet with her next statement.

..:..:..:..

A/N: After such an intense chapter, I suspect that you all are full of questions and comments. Hit that little button. I won't bite. Who can guess what Poppy is going to say next? What is his reaction going to be when he finds out who the patient is? Will Harry choose the Hickman or the port and why? Most of these questions will be answered in the next couple of chapters. Stay tuned for the next update, where you'll get to see what healer Robertson has been up to, and just how he got Harry scheduled for an MRI so hastily. I hope you don't mind the slightly nonlinear setting of the next chapter or two. Rest assured, they'll sill be interesting.


	9. Chapter 9: Patients Galore

Diagnosis

A/N: Here's where the fic goes away from Harry's POV for a short while. Watch out, the last scene is an emotional one.

Thanks for all of the kind and thoughtful reviews.

Disclaimer: If I owned the Potter verse than I wouldn't be a struggling college student.

Chapter Nine: patients galore

..:..:..

Dr. Robertson strode confidently through the halls of the muggle hospital. He was on his way to nuclear imaging, after getting wind from Nurse Kristina that young Lucy Night had lost all functionality of her left side. Unfortunately for the girl and her family, her inoperable brain tumor had for all intents and purposes outgrown the brain stem. DIPG tumors are notorious for their bleak survival rates, since their very location makes it nigh impossible to dissect the tumor safely. Young Lucy would be lucky to live to Christmas now that she had started showing some of the more severe symptoms. The MRI was merely being performed to have the images to present to her parents; oftentimes, kind words followed by confirmatory tests were the only way to get through to parents of children like Lucy. She was only six, and her vibrant spirit could do little to save her now.

Before the oncologist knew it, he stood before the doors leading to nuclear imaging. He quietly pushed the doors open and walked to the MRI booth where radiology tec Brown was perusing Lucy's latest MRI scan.

"Hello Dr. Robertson. What a surprise it is to see you here on your day off."

"Ah yes," chuckled the doctor. "I have things that I need to get accomplished today regarding a new patient of mine; they can't wait till tomorrow."

"I see. Well then would you mind giving these scans a glance?"

"No problem," said Robertson amiably reaching out for said scans.

That was not good.

With one glance, the doctor's worst fears were confirmed.

It didn't take a wizard to notice that Lucy's Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma had begun to invade the surrounding brain tissue.

"Have you ever seen something like that before with DIPG's," asked the radiology tech curiously.

"In the advanced stages of the disease such rapid tumor growth is inevitable," the doctor cleared his throat before continuing. "Lucy's tumor was already quite advanced when she was referred to me, as many of my patients. Stage III DIPG doesn't have a real chance for obtaining remission. But with a patient as young as Lucy, I wanted to give her the best chance for survival as possible."

"I don't envy you having to tell the parents," said the radiology tech sympathetically.

"Sadly, I've become rather adept at delivering the ultimate bad news."

"When Lucy was wheeled into the room and placed on the table, unable to shift herself over, due to the recent paralysis of her entire left side, I never expected to find such rapid growth. Why only last week, her tumor was stable. Ghastly big, but still in the mid-brain stem," replied the radiology tech shocked.

"There's nothing to be done now, except to keep her comfortable," came Robertson's glib response

Never one to get distracted from his main reason for coming to hospital today, the doctor said, "Is there any way that you can squeeze a new patient of mine in for a MRI tomorrow?"

"I'll see what can be done about it. It's normally not standard procedure, but most of your patients tend to be rather sickly when you get them. I'm sure an exception can be made for you."

"Thanks Miss Brown."

"I'm always happy to please. After all, Miss Fletcher really doesn't have to get that MRI for her face lift tomorrow does she?"

They both shared a laugh at how the rich and famous tend to get priority over the lower-class patients.

My how the British Health Service has fallen.

On his way to Lucy and Elisa's room, Dr. Robertson took his time walking down the patient hallway deep in thought. During their last round of remodeling, Children's had not only converted a number of semi private rooms to private rooms, but on many floors, they removed the bright white florescent lights and bright white paint in the patient hallways. The white paint had been replaced with soft flat pastels. Each floor featured a different base color. The bright lights in most of the hallways had been replaced with softer recessed lighting, intended to accent the base color. Some of the floors originally had beautiful carpeting in the hallways because some nincompoop in an office somewhere no doubt decided that carpeting would give it a homey touch. It is nigh impossible to roll wheelchairs and beds on carpeting; let alone the fact that dirt hides in carpet no matter how often you clean it, and therefore it tends to harbor germs. Not a good idea to have décor that harbors germs in a hospital, especially a hospital that kators primarily to children. Much to the employees' glee, the carpeting was removed. Robertson had overheard some of the nurses joking that when the carpeting was removed, they had wanted to burn it in a bonfire in a remote area of the parking lot some day when the lot wasn't crowded. It'd do nicely instead of the burning man. It was replaced with flooring that accented the new colors and was safer for patients.

He'd always found children's attitude towards life in general and illness in particular to be so refreshing and so different from most adults'. In Robertson's experience, most adults, when faced with illness or disability, focused too much on what they could no longer do. This is normal and natural; adults have a lifetime of history and know what they're missing. On the other hand, children mostly had two things on their minds. They usually wanted to know what kind of presents they were going to get out of this and when they could go out and play; usually in that order. It didn't matter what kind of serious surgery they had, what kind of painful tests they had to endure, or that they might now have to use crutches or a wheelchair to get around. The first three things little kids usually wanted to know when they woke up after anesthesia or when they started treatment were "What kind of toys am I getting out of this?" and "When can I go out and play?" Or "When can I see my friends who aren't in hospital with me?"

Older kids were concerned more about when they could see their friends again, or when they could go back to school.

Robertson's oncology practices included both children and adults, even though there were pediatric oncologists in London whose practices were limited strictly to children with cancer. Being the only oncologist at St. Mungo's, Robertson had a limited selection of patients. Most adults with cancer refused treatment due to the probability that they'd lose their magic, but a few were willing to undergo chemotherapy, so technically speaking, he treated both. When faced with childhood cancer, parents had their choice of pediatric oncologists or an oncologist with a mixed practice consisting of adults and children. Robertson wanted children in his practice; parents and children liked him, and he liked them too.

Before he knew it, he found himself on the lift, going up to the pediatric level. He had a ten year old patient there, a little girl with osteosarcoma and the primary tumor was in her right femur, just above her right knee. The tumor had just been identified and staged via biopsy, and chemotherapy had just begun. Radiation had been ordered, but not started yet. She had not had surgery yet because Peter, her parents and the little girl's orthopedic surgeon were still debating what kind of surgery would be best for her. She needed surgery; there was no way around it. Surgery to remove the tumor was of utmost importance. At issue was whether or not they should amputate. Peter knew there were limb-sparing procedures that could result in the removal of the tumor without having to amputate her leg. The little girl's orthopedic surgeon was of the opinion that amputation now would result in a higher chance of cure, and less risk of recurrence of the cancer later on. But Dr. Peter Robertson's primary job was to advocate for his patients; her parents refused to amputate unless their was no other recourse and their oncologist was behind them 100%.

Robertson arrived at her room bearing a little plush teddy bear that he had transfigured out of a tea cozy before arriving. The sight he saw when he rounded the corner into her room was arresting. This little girl, who knew she had cancer and might soon be facing the amputation of her leg, had a big smile on her face. Her parents were watching the telly in the room with her. She was sitting in her mum's lap, squirming like any ten year old restrained in someone's lap, and playing with a new doll. "Dr. Robertson!" she shouted. "See what my mummy gave me?" She proudly displayed her new long-haired doll and all the hair ribbons and barrettes that came with the doll. She was braiding the doll's hair. "What color ribbon should I put on her? I want blue, but mummy's favorite color is red."

Smiling himself, Robertson said, "Why not use both? You could tie a blue ribbon at the top of her braid and a red ribbon at the bottom. I think that'd be cute!" It was amazing how the sight of a relatively healthy girl with cancer could brighten his outlook. After finding out about Lucy's deterioration, Robertson had dreaded the rest of his day, but now he was provided with this little respite before he had to see the Night parents.

The little girl herself started losing her hair, but she didn't care about that, and she didn't care about her leg. All she cared about was doing her doll's hair. Her mother had all she could do to hold on to the little girl, because the little girl just wanted to run around and show everyone her new doll. Her leg made that difficult, but pain and disability didn't seem to hold her back one iota.

"I swear, it's like she's had five cups of sugar today. I don't have this much energy, and I'm not sick!" her mum exclaimed with a smile.

"Muuummmm!" the little girl whined. "Let me down! I want to show Maggie!" Maggie apparently was another cancer patient she'd made friends with.

"Not now, sweetie. Let's let the medicine help your leg. Daddy and I need to talk to Dr. Robertson."

"Okay, but don't leave me alone for too long mum. After the medicine has finished helping my leg for today, can I go see Maggie?"

Here's this girl facing life altering illness and surgery and she's bursting at the seams with a zest for life. And Gertrude won't even lift a finger to take the floo to hospital and see me regarding her cancer. Once she was told that she would see me one more time before being referred to a muggle hospital for chemo, she wanted nothing to do with treatment. Some patients were so narrow-minded. Her cancer was curable even and her prejudice was so strong that she'd probably die because of it.

Robertson really hadn't gone to see the little girl because he wanted to talk to mum and dad; he went to see the little girl to remind himself what life could be like for Gertrude if she would just let it. She didn't have to let this drag her down. Robertson wished he could take just a little of this girl's spirit, her zest for life, and inject it into some of his more traditional wizarding patients who refused treatment on a daily basis just because they might lose their 'precious' magic. And here was this little girl so full of hope and the will to live despite her lack of magic. Most of Robertson's patients at this hospital were muggles who were ignorant of the raging war just outside of their sight. The best he could do was let a little of it soak into him. And try to transfer it into the Night family later, to provide them with as much hope and fortitude to make it through this very trying time that lay before them (which they remained ignorant of for the moment). Somewhere in the hospital, Lucy lay on a bed, terrified because she woke up this morning unable to feel her left side; her parents were waiting agonizing over this latest batch of MRI scans. They had no way of knowing what Robertson had to tell them and no way of preparing for their daughter's premature death. How could one prepare for the death of their only child who'd fought so fiercely against a disease that they couldn't even see.

The healer/doctor couldn't just leave without talking to her mum and dad, though. They went out to the private pediatric conference room and discussed the various surgical options available, including limb sparing surgery. The tumor was small enough that her leg could be saved; they could remove the tumor and a little of the surrounding healthy bone and replace it with a titanium prosthetic bone or something similar. That would need to be discussed with the orthopedic surgeon, of course. Robertson wanted to be sure the parents knew that option was available and that current theory was that amputation should be considered only if limb sparing surgery wasn't possible. As it turned out, the little girl's parents had really done their homework and were already pretty well convinced they wanted the limb sparing surgery. They wanted to be certain that their doctor was on board with that decision as well. They didn't have much else to talk about other than that, so Peter agreed he would call the orthopedic surgeon and set up one more pre op meeting with the girl's parents.

Dr. Robertson left the impromptu meeting with a happier heart. He was ready to go give the bad news to a six year old's family now.

..:..:..

"Hey Elisa," came a chipper voice from the bed across the room. Apparently, Lucy was back from her MRI.

"What's up," said Elisa trying to put on a brave face for her younger roommate. She had been the one to send for the nurse when Lucy had woken up this morning unable to feel or move her left side. She had calmly reassured the girl until Nurse Katie had arrived. The doctors had whisked her friend off to the radiology department faster than Elisa could blink. It would seem that this was a new symptom of Lucy's brain cancer. And if the nurse's reaction was anything to go on, it was a significant one.

"Nurse Katie brought me back from my MRI. Did you know that they can put butterflies on the walls during your MRI? The tech even asked me what type of music I liked to listen to and gave me a pair of headphones to listen to it," came Lucy's enthusiastic statement.

"No, I haven't been down for an MRI before. My cancer only needed a quick CT scan to make sure that the leukemia hadn't spread to my brain, but I've heard that they're very alike each other."

"Last time I had an MRI, I just had to lay their bored to death for ever," said Lucy.

"O really," said Elisa. "That's wicked! I'm sure you can commiserate with other kids about how boring the MRI's are, and can talk with some friends about how fascinating the new music is at the cancer party tomorrow."

"What's comisherate mean," asked Lucy butchering the word. Lucy continued, "Yay, I'm so excited! I forgot about the party this morning because of my stupid arm."

"Commiserate means to feel sad about how boring they used to be together."

"Okay. Can you still help me with my letters if my hand doesn't work?"

Elisa thought hard about a way to improvise their usual routine, so that she could teach her young mate her letters. Traditionally, most cancer kids are home schooled, but Lucy's home school teacher had a baby growing in her stomach, so she couldn't teach Lucy until the baby was born.

Elisa pushed her call button for the nurse and waited patiently for Nurse Katie to come.

A short time later, a knock came at the door.

"Yes, is their something that you ladies need," inquired Nurse Katie who looked rather preoccupied at the moment.

"Yes," said Elisa. "Lucy here wants to work on her letters, and now that one of her hands doesn't work, I was wondering if you have any suggestions about how to keep the paper still while she writes."

"I can bring you a pillow to rest your arm on Lucy," said the nurse. "And then we can put the pad of paper on the bedside table. If we place the empty water pitcher on the edge of the paper like this," she said opening the pad of paper to a blank page and placing the water pitcher on the very edge. "You can write now and you won't have to worry about not being able to hold the paper still as you do. Just out of curiosity, who thought about this before calling me?"

"I did Nurse Katie. I've been teaching Lucy how to hold the paper still and stay in the lines, and now she can't do it anymore, so I thought that this would work," said Elisa in a rush. She vividly remembered the time her mum taught her how to hold a pen instead of a quill. Her mum was a firm believer that any wizarding child should at least know the basics of penmanship. If it hadn't been for Elisa's mum's insistence, Elisa would be in deep trouble now that she had gotten cancer and spent a majority of her time in muggle hospital.

"Very well thought-out Elisa," praised Nurse Katie. Her young patients continued to surprise her every day with the level of maturity that the cancer has burdened them with. Most children Elisa's age would only be thinking about how to get her to write her letters, not about the complications that would arise now that she was paralyzed.

"You don't need to get a pillow from somewhere else," said Elisa kindly. "If I get in my wheelchair and wheel myself over to Lucy, she can use my pillow."

"That's very thoughtful of you Elisa," said Nurse Katie. "How about I help you transfer into your chair and move your IV stand over their, since you're being so helpful to Lucy, I'll do the same for you." The nurse was wise enough and kind enough not to mention that the simple task of transferring herself to the chair, getting the pillow, dragging the pole, and maneuvering her chair would tire Elisa out. Experience had taught her that her cancer patients had a strong sense of independence, especially the children. If you could assist those who needed it but wouldn't admit to such, in a way that seemed merely helpful instead of something that they needed help with, they were far more compliant and even grateful for the assistance.

After making sure that Elisa and Lucy had everything they needed, Nurse Katie said, "You girls have fun, Dr. Robertson and your parents will be in here shortly to talk to you though Lucy."

The time between Nurse Katie leaving and Lucy's folks arriving flew buy. Before Elisa knew it, a knock came at the door and as she usually did, Elisa got up out of her chair, wrapped her hand around the IV pole and started making her way to the door to open it, dragging the pole along.

"Thanks for letting us in," said Mr. Night. The sight of his daughter's roommate moving around on her own caused a lump to rise up in his throat; his daughter would probably never be able to walk independently again.

"I see that you're feeling well this morning," said Dr. Robertson who wasn't surprised in the slightest to see Elisa up and about. In fact, both he and the oncology team, including the nurses encouraged the patients to get up when they felt like it and to move around to the best of their ability.

"Mum, look," said Lucy, pointing to a pad of paper on her roll-away table, which was currently acting as a desk across her legs. "Elisa taught me how to write my 'big letters."

"Let me see," said her mum, putting on a brave face for her little girl. Her daughter's current plight had her stomach in knots, but Misses Night wasn't going to let such troubling prospects dampen her daughter's good mood. "That's great honey; just the other day, you hadn't mastered your capital letters. I see that today, you did them all nearly perfect. I'm so proud of you!"

When everyone was sitting down comfortably, Dr. Robertson began. "We got Lucy's scans back, and I'm afraid that I've got very grim news. Would you rather us discuss this in private," he asked the Night parents.

"Do you want Elisa to be here for the news" asked Lucy's mum to her little girl. Elisa and Lucy had fast become good friends and Misses Night didn't want her daughter to have to explain things to her best friend if she would prefer her to sit in on the doctor's report.

"Yeah," said Lucy.

"Alright," said Robertson. "As I'm sure you already know, young Elisa here paged the nurse when Lucy awoke this morning in distress. Once the severity of the situation was realized, an MRI was ordered."

Mr. Night looked troubled at that. He hadn't known that Elisa had been the one obligated to contact the staff about Lucy. Such responsibility shouldn't be asked of any child, much less one who was going through their own battle with cancer. "Thank you for helping my little girl," said Mr. Night. "It's all thanks to you that our little girl got help in a timely manner."

"You're welcome. I was willing to look out for Lucy. Us roomies stick together right," said Elisa looking at Lucy fondly. "I knew when I agreed to keep an eye on her last night while you were at home, that their always was a chance that something could happen."

"Upon my arrival at the hospital earlier, I went down to nuclear imaging and looked at Lucy's scans personally. Unfortunately, they weren't what we had hoped," cut in Dr. Robertson.

"How bad," asked Misses Night.

"I'm afraid there's nothing further we can do for Lucy," said Dr. Robertson sympathetically.

"But isn't their something we can do, more chemo, or high dose radiation," insisted Mr. Night in denial.

"No. I'm afraid that all we can do for her now is provide palliative care."

In a timid and shaky voice, Elisa asked, "What's p-palliative care? Y-you aren't s-saying t-that she's going to d-die are you?"

It broke Dr. Robertson's heart to see one of his patients struggling with the knowledge that her friend was going to die.

"I'm afraid so," said Dr. Robertson compassionately. "You've all talked about the possibility that the bad cells could take over your body in group therapy, but I guess there's no way to prepare to lose someone you've grown to love."

"It's going to be alright," said Lucy, reaching out her only working arm to hug her sobbing mum close. Everyone in the room had tears in their eyes, except for Lucy who had been a rock. It hurt Dr. Robertson to see such a little child made so mature because of the cancer that they were the ones comforting their grieving family members.

"Just think mum," said Lucy optimistically. "Now we can go on holiday to Disney World, like I always wanted to do."

Miss Night sobbed even harder at her daughter's well intentioned words.

"O-of c-course," stammered her father. "We promised you my little angel that if you beat the cancer, or i-if heaven forbid, y-you d-didn't, we'd take you there."

Looking at her older friend, Lucy said, "There'll be no more chemotherapy treatments, no more radiation, or stupid new MRI walls with butterflies on them."

"Y-you're r-right," said Elisa, not having the heart to crush her friend's spirit by telling her that it meant that she was going to die slowly, eventually not even being able to feed herself, or think. The tumor would probably destroy everything that made Lucy Lucy. It just wasn't FAIR!

"Now you'll be able to braid my hair mum. After I stop the chemotherapy, my hair will grow back, Jonny told me so, after his cancer went away over the summer, remember?"

"Y-yes h-honey, h-his h-hair d-did g-grow b-back," said Miss Night.

Elisa got up on shaky feet, hastily pulling her IV pole behind her going into the loo and latching the door. She couldn't bare listening to her friend being so chipper about being able to just live like a normal kid (for now anyways) because the little girl would soon be dead. Elisa stood before the mirror, her recently bald head glistening with sweat after exerting so much effort just walking around and teaching Lucy. Now that Elisa was in private, she couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

..:..:..

A/N: Lucy will still be Elisa's roommate until hospice care can be set up, and you'll get to see the fallout when Elisa is assigned a new roommate, but Lucy isn't a major character by any means. Elisa will play a role in this, though she's nowhere as important as Neville. Such an experience has got to be hard for a child to face, especially since accepting that death is inevitable means that you've got to consider that you could very well die of your own illness.

Though this chapter focused on OC's, I thought that it was necessary to explore some philosophy and how stoic and mature even the youngest of terminally ill kids can be. House MD on Fox did the same thing in an episode, many of the viewers liked it, I hope that you lot didn't mind. Also, a girl went to school with me who had AML, she was terminal but was stoic and very mature throughout her time at school (she later passed away). So, I'm hereby confirming that children can in reality act in this way when faced with a terminal illness.

Some of you guys asked for more character development with Harry and his friends, I'll try to show something either in the next chapter or the one after that.

Considering that it's officially the first week of spring, I'd like to point out that it surely doesn't feel that way. I had to go out this morning for a meeting, but now I can sit inside nice and cozy and drink a cup of hot coco.

The burning man as many of you know is a reference to bonfire night, a holiday practiced in the UK.


	10. Chapter 10 the end to a trying day

Diagnosis

A/N: Did any of you see Breaking Dawn Part II? I saw it last night with a friend, and was flabbergasted during the battle scene that appeared to the audience like a very important person died, which we found out moments later was a projected vision of Alice's of what could be. I was glad when my friend described the next scene where we could release our collective breaths when they all turned out to be alright, if you haven't seen the movie and you're a Twilight lover, you should go see it ASAP! Even though it's already out on DVD probably by now it's not that bad of a film.

If you're looking for a well-written cancer fic, then check out Just for Now by MarieLewis; it's pretty long and as of two days ago, is being updated again. I always did prefer when Harry has cancer for the fics heart to remain with Harry and MarieLewis has done just that. She's one of my favorite authors and I aim to make my fic half as good as hers in way of character development.

Thanks to everyone who read and/or reviewed last chapter. Sorry for the wait, I was busy writing an English essay this past week. And I feel that I should warn you guys, finals are coming up, so updates might be sporadic, and I'll be taking a May-mester accelerated semester, which I'm far from looking forward too. Reviews are like a box of chocolates, good for the mind body and soul :-d The part where Harry and Dumbledore talk in the headmasters office about the memory prior to seeing it is an attempt on my part to fix the plot hole in the books where Dumbledore seemingly knows what the Gawnts are saying when they speak in parseltoungue but he can't speak it. Its never explained in the books how he understood the memory and responded like he knew what they were saying too Harry so this is my attempt to correct the misconception.

Disclaimer: If I owned the books then I wouldn't be publishing fanfic on a fanfiction website now would I? No I didn't think so.

BTW Also don't own the rights to the scene in HBP, and the names of the chemotherapy drugs are real and used to treat brain tumors, save for the magical ones that are of my own creation.

Chapter 9: the end to a Trying Day

hdhdhd

Jerked back into reality once more at the knock on his door, Severus hurriedly picked up the chair that he had knocked over in agitation, not startlement, because Severus Snape was never startled by anything, before the person who kept insisting to be let in like a bloody vampire was chasing them, knocked down his door and saw him standing their with a chair laying in the middle of the floor haphazardly.

"Come in," ordered Severus undoing the locking spell of his own invention so that whoever it was could enter.

Severus hadn't expected a man who he considered a near stranger to be the source of his agitation . But he was interested when he saw Poppy Pomfrey standing in his door frame with a tall, blond and very handsome man with her. From the looks of it, the friend of hers had been the one to knock despite the wards on his door that distracted everyone from noticing it unless they had something pressing to see him about.

"I've been working on that special potion you requested of me," said Severus with a nonchalant wave of his hand, which was intended to hurry her along so that he could get back to the potion for the Headmaster. "But my dunderheaded students seem to only add to my already full workload."

"You needn't continue it," stated Poppy confidently.

"Why ever not," asked Severus curiously. "The problem isn't going to just fix its self. The reason for your request of me isn't going to just go away because you want it too you know."

"That's why I'm here," said Poppy. "The man beside me is a former colleague of mine. Healer Robertson, meet Professor Severus Snape."

Severus recognized the name, wasn't he an oncologist?

Why was an oncologist at Hogwarts of all places?

"I'm already acquainted with him," retorted the potions master stiffly. "We met briefly at a muggle medical conference that we both attended when I was going to muggle university to study the basics of muggle healing."

"Why are you two here in my personal lab together?"

"Why I'm here about the very same patient that I asked you to brew that potion for," said Poppy.

"But that means...a student can't have-"

It was a rare thing that struck Severus Snape speechless, and Poppy had managed to do it. Little did he know that she was about to yank the proverbial rug right from underneath his feet with her next statement.

Staring at the man whom Severus thought he recollected as being a muggle children's oncologist, he asked, "What brings you to Hogwarts? If I recall, your field of study is cancer. To my knowledge, Hogwarts hasn't had a student afflicted with cancer for over a decade." Poppy was surprised that Severus had regained his composure after his previous bafflement of just a few moments ago.

Shrugging his shoulders Robertson replied, "Well times have changed."

A knot of fear clenched in the pit of the normally unflappable potions master's stomach. If any single student currently enrolled in Hogwarts had the disposition for atrocious luck it was the spawn of James Potter. "May I inquire the identity of the patient in question and the nature of their affliction?"

"It's Harry," said Poppy sadly.

"Why am I not surprised. So that's why he nearly lost it in my class that day when Draco had the good sense to shut the waif of a boy up. Why I was under the delusion that he had had another vision from the Dark Lord or something," retorted Severus irritation evident in his tone. "But I should've known when you asked me to invent you a potion with the capability and strength to break the Healer's Oath."

"You didn't," came the incredulous retort from Robertson.

"I had no choice; Harry was going to force me to watch helplessly as he died. For a time, he wanted nothing to do with the treatment of his cancer."

"Then it should've been his decision to make. It's his life and he's going to be the one living with the consequences of such a drastic decision. Potter's as stubborn as one of Hagrid's blast ended scrutes," snapped Severus like a whip. "And you're damn lucky I trust you with my life Poppy, because many healers or potions masters would report you for the attempted breach of a patients privacy regardless. The Healer's Oath has an Exception, why didn't you seek their aid in convincing our most stubborn student to do the right thing and undergo treatment? And that's not to say that I wasn't unwilling to do you a favor like that..."

Poppys nostrils flared in fury. "Don't speak of what you don't understand! The chosen Exception to the Oath turned a blind eye to a situation in which I asked their help for in the past, so why would anything have changed now?"

"The Exception to the Oath in Hogwarts is usually the Headmaster," cut in Robertson devising a subtle way of sussing a way to confirm his suspicions without asking her a question to which he knew she couldn't answer. This was the supreme usage of Slytherin tactics if their ever was one.

"Yes, the Headmaster is often treated like he's infallible, but people rarely look past that grandfatherly facade he puts on so well. Earlier today in the hospital wing, you know when you brought up Harrys weight-"

"Of course I do. For Merlin sake, a growing teenager only weighs so low on the charts if they're having to make up the difference that they lose over the summer hols," said Robertson. "You mean to tell me that you brought accusations of suspected abuse of the boy to the Headmaster and he just blew you off!"

With a roll of her eyes Poppy said, "Yes. I thought you trusted me."

"I did, but after such a seeming breech of protocol and duty as I thought you had committed by asking Severus to break the confidentiality of the Healers Oath a confirmation of good faith is necessary."

"Glad you are a "by the books" kind of guy," said Severus sarcastically. "Because Potter sure is. You'll have such luck in persuading him to try out new clinical trials when the day comes for such drastic measures to be taken."

"Harry and I've built up quite a rapport if I do say so myself Severus," came the healers smart response. "From what I gathered by his expression when he realized that you were the potions master of whom we'd be asking to brew the potions he'll need, he nearly went into an apoplectic fit."

"Now now boys," said Poppy patronizing them both for their childish attitudes. "How about we stop acting like two year olds and start acting like the professionals that I know we are. Some of us seem to think it prudent to bicker back and forth like an old married couple." Speaking in the third person was a deliberate act on Poppys part, because she knew that it'd put a halt to the two mens annoying bickering back and forth.

"So why pray tale did you think that I would brew your precious golden boy's potions? I'd hardly be champing at the bit to do so, since they have a 10% chance of causing serious injury to him or death. I'm not looking for my own personal cell in Azkaban you know, after Dumbledore so graciously saw to my release in 1981 on the grounds that I was playing a dual role as spy for the light."

"Its standard procedure for the patient to sign a consent form before any treatment is given. You would hardly be liable," said Robertson firmly. "You're the only chance he has."

"What about muggle chemotherapy? The side-effects are abhorrent, but he'd live," persisted Severus.

"Muggle drugs like Irinotecan or Etoposide can make wizarding children and teens squibs. And since my patient is an idle for the wizarding world, I'd rather not risk being the one blamed for dooming him to a life of squibhood thankyouverymuch," replied Robertson sticking steadfast to his earlier decision.

"Well then," said Severus noncommittally. "Aren't their any other drugs that he can try?"

"If the tumor turns out to be refractory to any treatment, then there is one muggle chemotherapy drug we can give him, but the side-effects are EXTREMELY hazardous to anyone with as little magical blood in their vanes as an ounce and everyone in our world knows that he's magically stronger than most."

"What is it called," asked Poppy curious as to her patient's possible options, if the worst should happen and his cancer were to reoccur someday down the road.

"I don't want to say just yet; we probably won't have to even consider that possibility," stated the healer firmly.

"Very well," sneered Severus with a raised eyebrow. "What about muggle radiation? It's a barbaric way to treat cancer in my humble opinion, but an effective one."

"But you won't be held accountable for the outcome," supplied healer Robertson right on the money.

"I presume that he's going to let some muggle doctor play 'pen the radiation on the wizard' now," scoffed Severus.

"I wouldn't put it quite like that," said Robertson speaking slowly as if he were talking to a rather dim-witted child. "Muggle radiotherapy is very successful what with the constant advancement in technique and the different types of rays that we're discovering will reduce tumor size far more effectively than the machines that were in use in the 80's."

"What type of cancer does he have? Somehow you two have evaded that particular query of mine thus far."

"Harry was diagnosed with brain cancer," said Poppy her face falling.

"You mean to tell me that he's been ill since the time he nearly had an aneurism in my class from the pressure building in his brain and he has yet to start treatment of any variety," snarled Severus menacingly though still managing to sound facetious.

"It wasn't that bad, and what could I do if he refused treatment and wouldn't let me tell anyone," defended Poppy.

"Why I never knew you cared so much," shot Robertson from beside his friend.

"I don't care a whit what happens to him, just as long as he doesn't die on my watch," said Severus.

Poppy knew it! Severus didn't want anyone to know it, but he did care in his own bizarre way for every student; his defensive yet tentatively helpful question about Potter confirmed it. Since she assumed he'd be brewing the potions, that meant that he'd do his best to ensure his health remain good, until he no longer needed the potions anyway.

"How often will he be receiving the radiation," queered Severus.

"Again, I must stress how your actions show that you care for the boy's well-being," said Robertson.

"I do not," retorted Severus shortly.

"Do too!"

"I do not you imbecile!"

"Alright you two," reprimanded Poppy as if she were talking to three year olds instead of thirty plus year olds. "Must I separate you two and place you into different corners of this office?"

Severus wasn't going to dignify her statement with a response.

"Let's get on with this already, I've got better things to be doing than refereeing this jungle gym," lectured Poppy sternly.

"He'll be traveling between Hogwarts and the hospital three to four times a week for six to eight weeks," said the healer.

"And after that," asked Severus.

"Six to eight weeks is the recommended length of treatment for radiotherapy treatment. After that, we'll assess things and go from their."

"Are you planning on coming clean with Potter and telling him that he has around eight weeks for the muggle side of his treatment to take affect and that's it," asked Severus frankly.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come too it, and I didn't say that that was his last option for muggle treatment. Though it's most certainly his safest option."

"So if I acquiesce to your demands and brew what promises to be a complex potion for Potter and he takes muggle radiation, then he'll more than likely come out of this alive and magically adept?"

"I'm almost certain of it," said Robertson, reaching into his robe pocket (he had removed the scrubs before coming to see Hogwarts sternest professor) and withdrew a rolled up piece of parchment. "But their are no garrintees in oncology. Here is the list of ingredients you'll need for the potion to combat his cancer, and at the bottom is the relatively short list of potion ingredients that you'll need to make the MCDS."

"It's that bad," inquired Severus.

"Yeah, his cancer has become rather advanced due to his magic hiding his symptoms for so long. He'll need to be given the MCDS daily until the cancer goes into remission." Severus noticed that Robertson remained optimistic even with a case as serious as Potter's appeared to be. He supposed it was a trait of the job, a competent healer could hardly do his job if it became painfully obvious to the patient and their family that they were inches away from dying now could he?

"Okay. If I'm going to be playing nurse maid to Potter and brewing his potions, then how are you going to explain my absence from staff meetings to Albus," said Severus slyly.

"First of all, no one said that you'd be his primary care giver unless you wish to be. He trusts me far more than he will initially trust you Severus," said Poppy kindly. "The boy has trust issues. And secondly, you are more than an adequate potions brewer, I'm sure you can manage to come to the staff meetings since they're held only once a week. Nice try. If I don't get to skive off of them then you don't either."

"And how often will Potter be taking the other potion?"

"That partially depends on the test results."

"What test results," asked Severus of the healer.

"Why didn't you know," asked Robertson curiously.

Severus was growing frustrated by Robertson's playful yet annoying banter.

"Know what exactly," sneered Severus.

"The ones he's going to be getting tomorrow," retorted Robertson annoyed at how little Severus seemed to be informed about regarding Potter.

"How's he going to a muggle hospital then? Because I'm certainly NOT taking him their."

"Oh didn't I tell you?"

Severus was of half a mind to shout that no he bloody hadn't told him a blasted thing but he refrained from doing so, if only to avoid Poppy flying off the handle at them both yet again.

"Who said you'd be taking him?"

"No one!"

"Temper temper," tutted Robertson. 'This wasn't fair! The healer thought that he could walk in my office and treat me like I'm some pertinacious student!'

"Calm down you lot," said Poppy, growing more and more irate at their childish behavior the longer that it persisted. If she didn't know better, she'd think that they had a thing for one another, because they were acting like school children with a crush on one another, where they both remained in denial about their feelings and thus argued as a way to vent their feelings and frustrations.

"Where will he be treated," asked Poppy trying to move things along.

"He'll be going to a children's hospital in Chelsea."

"Are the doctors their proficient enough at their jobs to handle a case like Potters," asked Severus, who told himself that he wasn't asking because he cared for Potter, he was only inquiring about such matters to assuage the Headmasters fears in order to shut up the old fool when he inevitably discovered the secret.

"As a matter of fact, they are. I'm currently treating another wizarding child who is staying their full-time."

"Well they obviously don't go to Hogwarts."

"Why doesn't Potter have to stay their full-time," asked Severus praying to Merlin and all of his cohorts that Robertson would think things over and agree that perhaps it would be best for Potter to stay in hospital until his radiation was over, that way Severus would only have to tolerate the cheeky prats presence, when he administered the potions to him.

"When possible, the patient's wishes are taken into consideration when planning their course of treatment, and Potter clearly wants to continue his education for as long as he's able. I've provided him a portkey that he can take to and from the hospital, so transportation isn't an issue."

"It's your call not mine," responded Severus.

"Studies have shown that children with cancer can become depressed without the constants in life that they've became accustomed too. Some children become depressed and withdrawn if they're withdrew from school. They crave routine, which makes since due to the rest of their lives being so much out of their control. In addition, it gives them something else to think about besides the cancer."

Perusing the list of ingredients, Severus frowned. "Some of these ingredients are extremely rare. I doubt that Potter's trust fund is going to hold enough galleons to support the cost of them. Especially if the potions part of treatment is going to be for longer than eight weeks you know."

"I've thought about that," said Poppy. "Didn't the Potters have a family vault in addition to his trust vault? I was under the impression that trust vaults are meant only to be used for a child's allowance. Surely they left him with more than that."

"You're correct; I know just who to interrogate about Potter's finances, or lack their of," said Severus with a smirk.

"Whom?"

"Albus Dumbledore. He is Potter's magical guardian."

Poppy's face turned tomato red.

That man!

She had come to him with her allegations as a medical professional, and not only was he the Oath's Exception he was his magical guardian as well! Surely he had done yearly inspections to ensure his golden Gryffindor's safety at home.

"His muggle treatment will be covered by the BHS," said Robertson. "They cover all necessary treatments and medications for children and pregnant women. However, the potions would have to be listed as clinical trials in the muggle world, because if they do their research no one will have heard of them before. And they aren't covered unless there are extenuating circumstances."

"Well every little bit helps right," said Poppy.

"No one asked for your chipper reassurances," snarled Severus.

"Chill out Mr. dungeons bat," retorted Poppy.

"And I dare say in light of recent events," Severus stared at Poppy significantly. "Potter will now have additional finances that should cover the rest if I'm not mistaken. Though I'm at a loss as to where I'm going to obtain the amount of basilisk fangs that still have the venom sacks in tact."

" If you think cleverly you'll figure it out. Think back to Potter's second year," said Poppy cryptically. "Given what we've discussed this evening, I feel that some sort of insurance is necessary to keep the information under wraps."

"What are you asking of us? The unbreakable Vow?"

"I think that it's warranted. Are you afraid that you won't be able to keep your word Severus?"

"No of course not!"

"Will you consent to be our bonder Poppy," asked Robertson expecting a response in the negative, but getting the total opposite.

"Of course. I trust you both enough that I needn't worry about the repercussions of doing so," said Poppy confidently.

Poppy was too trusting; did she not realize that either of his masters might force Severus to tell them about the boy's condition?

Severus got on his knees and Robertson was soon to follow.

This wasn't the way Severus would've desired kneeling on his aching knees for; yes Robertson was a handsome bloke and all, but he was here as a potential colleague of Severus's not a fuck buddy, Severus reminded himself corralling his maudlin thoughts back into check.

Poppy stood on Severus's left side holding her wand in her hand firmly. He was astonished to notice that she wasn't shaking at the prospect of being their bonder.

hdhdhd

Poppy's POV

"Now you clasp hands," Poppy instructed them even though they probably didn't need the explanation, the ritual required it of her.

Carefully plotting, Poppy thought of every clause that needed to be stated to cover both Potter's right to privacy and their rights as practicing healers and potions master respectively.

This was an unusual way to initiate the bond since traditionally, one of the kneelers were the ones to ask the question, but neither of the men before her seemed to be coherent enough to look out for all parties in the doing, so she did it, hoping that the bond still held.

"Will you two look out first and foremost for Harry James Potter's well fare when making decisions about his life, both health wise and emotionally?"

"I will," said both men in unison. A tongue of flame curled itself around both of their forearms, the flames licking their skin gently before dissipating.

Poppy continued. "And will you solemnly swear to protect the secrecy of the patient's identity from all parties unless medically necessary, even under duress?"

"I will," came their hesitant responses. The red flames wrapped around their forearms yet again, then dissipated more slowly this time.

"And will you promise to do whatever is necessary to ensure Mr. Potter's survival, no matter the cost?"

Knowing that it was too late to back out of it now, they reluctantly said, "I will," for the final time. The red flames surrounded their forearms, then disappeared for the last time.

"You may release the other's hand now. The Vow is complete. If you violate the terms of the vow, you will die a violent and agonizing death, thus is the conditions of the Unbreakable Vow."

Wiping the perspiration from her brow, Poppy let out a sigh of relief.

"Now that that unpleasantness is over, I best be going. I've got matters to take care of, because Potter will probably be coming to see me this evening; I imagine he has some questions to ask me."

hdhdhd

Harry's POV

After playing a few games of wizards chess and exploding snap following dinner with Neville because Ron was too busy snogging the living daylights out of Lavender to play, on a divan, right in the middle of the Gryffindor common room no less, (did he have no shame). Harry left the common room at a quarter till, and proceeded through deserted corridors, though he had to step hastily behind a statue when Professor Trelawney appeared around a corner, muttering to herself as she shuffled a pack of dirty-looking playing cards, reading them as she walked.

"Two of spades: conflict," she murmured, as she passed the place where Harry crouched, hidden. 'Ditto, I'm always in a conflict of sorts, somehow she knows I'm here and is reading the playing cards according to the story of my life.' "Seven of spades: an ill omen. Ten of spades: violence. Knave of spades: a dark young man, possibly troubled, one who dislikes the questioner "

'I'm not denying that last one. But does her card game hold some truth? I could very well die a violent death this year: either at the hands of a megalomaniac, or by the drugs and potions weakening me just enough for me to die a horrible and slow death.' Thought Harry morbidly.

She stopped dead, right on the other side of Harry's statue.

"Well, that can't be right," she said, annoyed, and Harry heard her reshuffling vigorously as she set off again, leaving nothing but a whiff of cooking sherry behind her. Harry waited until he was quite sure she had gone, then hurried off again until he reached the spot in the seventh floor corridor where a single gargoyle stood against the wall in all of it's menacing glory.

"Acid Pops," said Harry, and the gargoyle leapt aside; the wall behind it slid apart, and a moving spiral stone staircase was revealed, onto which Harry stepped, so that he was carried in smooth circles up to the door with the brass lion shaped knocker that led to Dumbledore's office.

Harry paused before knocking to make sure that he had his best game face on. It wouldn't do at all for him to enter the Headmaster's office with an expression that belied his true feelings of utmost loathing and righteous contempt for the man within. He had to play the role of the innocent, gullible, naive Gryffindor that Albus Dumbledore expected him to be, if Albus was going to tell him anything of import about Lord Voldemort.

After taking a moment to collect himself, Harry knocked.

"Come in," said Dumbledore's voice.

"Good evening, sir," said Harry politely, walking into the headmaster's office.

"Ah, good evening, Harry. Sit down," said Dumbledore, smiling. "I hope you've had an enjoyable first month and a half back at school?"

"Yes, thanks, sir," said Harry; this was clearly an outright lie. Over the last month and a half, he had to put up with Michael Corner's bullying tendencies of Ginny, suffered severe migraines, learned that he had a dangerously large brain tumor, he had to make the difficult decision to seek treatment, and now, he had to attend lessons with the Headmaster, whom he despised, though he had to hide that fact from the perceptive man who sat before him. Of course, Harry was unwilling to share any of this with the Headmaster. It had taken all of the courage he possessed to grant Poppy permission to tell Severus Snape his secret.

"You must have been busy, since you dropped your spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Why did you do that my boy?"

'I'm not anyone's fucking boy, much less yours!' thought Harry infuriated.

"Err," began Harry awkwardly, but Dumbledore did not look too stern.

"I can arrange your school schedule to allow you more time to work on stratagems for the team, if that's why you quit."

"Right," said Harry noncommittally, who had more pressing matters on his mind than playing a ruddy sport, and now looked around surreptitiously for some indication of what Dumbledore was planning to do with him this evening. The circular office looked just as it always did; the delicate silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, puffing smoke and whirring; portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses dozed in their frames, and Dumbledore's magnificent phoenix, Fawkes, stood on his perch behind the door, watching Harry with bright interest. It did not even look as though Dumbledore had cleared a space for dueling practice. And Harry was frankly astonished to see that no evidence of their little disagreement at the end of last term, had affected any of the Headmaster's peculiar instruments. They all seemed to be in perfect working order, it was as if Harry had never blew them to shambles. Harry wasn't quite sure how that made him feel, because it was as if nothing had gone wrong; no one could prove now or ever that Albus Dumbledore had betrayed his trust.

Deciding that it was now or never, Harry asked putting on an air of shyness, "Headmaster, since all of the fifth and seventh years who were in the DA last term scored uncannily high on their defense marks, which implies that the DA really taught the students a lot. As we both are aware, the war is going to escalate soon, this little bubble of calm that we find ourselves in right now won't last, no matter how hard the Minister tries to persuade the wizarding world otherwise. So that's why I'm requesting your permission to start up the DA again. Hermione and I've already notified the members who are still at Hogwarts and we've invited others already do we have your permission to have a meeting in the great hall tomorrow?"

Dumbledore beamed at the misdirection of Harry's. It became evident to Harry that Dumbledore thought that his weapon was playing right into his hands by consenting to send both himself and nearly helpless students into war, but what he didn't know was not everyone that was going to be involved would be following the leader of the light. And this would provide Harry with allies of his own who would be far from helpless when he got through with teaching them.

"Of course my boy," said Dumbledore clapping his hands together jovially. "And I'll grant the DA full sanction as a school club. That way, there's no chance of the group being disbanded like Umbridge did last year."

Dumbledore changed the subject to one that would hopefully sate Harry's curiosity with his next statement. "So, Harry," said Dumbledore, in a businesslike voice. "You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these for want of a better word lessons?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information." There was a pause where Harry fumed. Didn't he promise him that night after the events at the Ministry that he had told him everything?

Harry voiced his thoughts.

"You said, at the end of last term, that you were going to tell me everything," said Harry. It was hard to keep a note of accusation from his voice. "Sir," he added as an afterthought.

"And so I did," said Dumbledore placidly. "I told you everything I know. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on out, Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."

"But you think you're right?" clarified Harry.

"Naturally I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being forgive me rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger." Harry had to fight back a comment that would give away his true opinion of the man in front of him. Yes, the Headmaster had made numerous mistakes when it came to Harry, the one that was the greatest in Harry's humble opinion was leaving him in Petunia and Vernon's care, where he was abused, neglected, and belittled at every opportunity. Nothing that the man said or did could make up for the hell that had been his childhood.

Harry had never encountered a man who had a bigger God complex than Albus Dumbledore. 'For Merlin's sake, he acts like he's omniscient or something!'

Continuing his budding acting skills Harry continued, seemingly complacent. "Sir," said Harry tentatively, "Does what you're going to tell me have anything to do with the prophecy? Will it help me survive?"

"It has a very great deal to do with the prophecy," said Dumbledore, as casually as if Harry had asked him about the next days weather, "And I certainly hope that it will help you to survive."

"In these lessons, we will be exploring memories which will mean that we're doing a lot of guesswork. For this particular memory, parseltoungue is used. As you know, Lord Voldemort and you are the only two wizards who are alive with the talent. I've watched the memory several times trying to piece the puzzle pieces together with only facial expressions, and I must say I've done a fine job of it considering that most of the memory is interlaced with parseltoungue throughout. Can you translate what is being said for me?"

Harry entertained the idea momentarily of responding with a big fat no just to see what the Headmaster would do, but thought better of it upon remembering that it would be easier to hold the DA meetings with his permission and restrained the urge with difficulty.

"Of course."

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked around the desk, past Harry, who turned eagerly in his seat to watch Dumbledore bending over the cabinet beside the door. When Dumbledore straightened up, he was holding a familiar shallow stone basin etched with odd ancient looking runes around its rim. He placed the Pensieve on the desk in front of Harry.

Harry had indeed been eyeing the Pensieve with some apprehension. His previous experiences with the odd device that stored and revealed thoughts and memories, though highly instructive, had also been uncomfortable. The last time he had disturbed its contents, he had seen much more than he would have wished, and his little excursions had ultimately led to Sirius's death because Severus refused cart blanch to teach him Occlumency after his breech of the man's privacy. But Dumbledore was smiling.

"This time, you enter the Pensieve with me and, even more unusually, with permission."

"Where are we going, sir," asked Harry a bit apprehensively, for the last time he had entered someone else's memories, he had learned some hard truths about his father and his immature friends.

"For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane," said Dumbledore, pulling from his pocket a crystal bottle containing a swirling silvery-white substance.

"Who was Bob Ogden?"

"He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said Dumbledore. "He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties. If you will stand, Harry "

But Dumbledore was having difficulty pulling out the stopper of the crystal bottle: His injured hand seemed stiff and painful. To make it even worse, the appendage was blackened and dead looking. Harry wouldn't be at all surprised if it became necrotic if Dumbledore didn't do something about it soon. He suddenly wished that the Headmaster had kept the glove on the hand until he left like he had been doing at mealtimes.

"Shall I, sir?"

"No matter, Harry "

Dumbledore pointed his wand at the bottle and the cork flew out.

"Sir how did you injure your hand?" Harry asked unable to contain his curiosity any longer, looking at the blackened fingers with a mixture of revulsion and pity.

"Now is not the moment for that story, Harry. Not yet. We have an appointment with Bob Ogden." Harry's stomach clenched painfully at the mention of an appointment, because he had an appointment tomorrow afternoon that he dreaded greatly.

Dumbledore tipped the silvery contents of the bottle into the Pensieve, where they swirled and shimmered, neither liquid nor gas. "After you," said Dumbledore, gesturing toward the bowl. Harry bent forward, took a deep breath, and plunged his face into the silvery substance. He felt his feet leave the office floor, and was suddenly assaulted by a bout of vertigo, though he was unable to tell if it stemmed from the sensation of Pensieve diving or if it was a new side-effect of the tumor rearing it's ugly head at last.

hdhdhd

When Harry and Dumbledore's farce of a lesson finally came to it's inevitable conclusion, Harry made his way almost silently down the spiral staircase. Not wanting to be waylaid by Mrs. Norris, Filch, or even worse, Professor Snape, Harry pulled out the Marauders map. He'd taken to stowing it in his robe pocket when wondering about the castle, just in case he needed it. Tapping the old looking bit of parchment with his wand, Harry stated, "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good." And just like that, the previously blank parchment in the youths hand started filling in with labeled dots.

Filch was just where he belonged, ensconced in his office. Harry continued to scan the map in search of the potions master's dot. Not that he need worry about getting caught out after curfew, because he had a perfectly good reason for his meandering for once, it was more like Harry didn't feel like answering the man's questions at the moment. Fortunately for Harry, he was in his office as well along with another unfamiliar dot.

What was healer Robertson doing at Hogwarts so late?

Oh yeah, Harry wanted nothing more than to hit himself over the head with one of Hermiones thick tomes for his idiocy. For he had been the one who gave Poppy and by proxy, healer Robertson permission to talk to anyone that was medically necessary about his condition.

Ever since Poppy had mentioned that the potions regimen would require a competent potions brewer, Harry had always known in the back of his mind that that person would probably be his least favorite professor.

Harry took note that the healer and Professor Snape were standing awfully close to each other for a mere consult.

Harry started making his way towards Gryffindor tower, he needed to have a little chat with Hermione and Ron concerning what Albus had shared with him. Harry was sick and tired of having to keep everything bottled up inside and the Headmaster hadn't expressly forbade him from telling his friends as far as Harry was concerned, that was good enough for him.

Harry wasn't yet ready to share with his closest friends the fact that he had cancer, but this was at least a start.

Upon reaching the portrait hole, Harry raised his wand to cancel the enchantment that allowed the wizard viewing the map to see the various occupants of the castle and their goings on, when he spotted Rons dot in an unused third floor classroom with Lavender no less. Harry didn't even want to speculate on what those two were getting up to. He definitely needed to talk to Hermione now, if only to banish the thought of his best mate and a girl as giggly as Lavender in the throes of passion. The catch would be making sure that Hermione didn't figure out where Ron was while Harry was talking with her.

Canceling the enchantment and putting the map away out of sight once more, Harry looked up at the Fat Lady. "Youth these days," muttered the Fat Lady in a snit. "Were you going to stand their all day looking at that piece of spare parchment in your hand all evening or what?"

"Sorry," said Harry hastily, taking a moment to scratch his arm where he had blood drawn from earlier. He didn't want the Fat Lady to waltz out of her portrait to gossip with Violet about the rudeness of youth these days and not come back for ages, so he figured he ought to be as polite as possible.

Harry climbed in the portrait hole and wasn't at all surprised to see Hermione sitting at a nearby table diligently finishing an essay that was probably not due for a couple of days.

Looking up from her rapidly lengthening scroll of parchment, Hermione said, "Hey Harry. How'd it go with Professor Dumbledore? Did he teach you some really crafty spells? Is he going to start giving you one-on-one dueling practice?"

Harry wanted to laugh out loud, but he suppressed the urge valiantly. Hermione must be under some serious delusions about Albus Bumblemore's competency when it came to teaching Harry how to defend himself against Voldemort and his death eaters, but he refrained from telling her just that.

"Not as such. The super-secret extra lessons will probably only be consisting of me learning some no doubt valuable Intel about what made Lord Voldemort into the creature he is today. This will help me, but not nearly as much as if he'd bother to do both, teach me about Voldemort's psyche and provide me with dueling practice. He's the second most powerful wizard in wizarding Britain, if his own account is to be believed. If he were my mentor, I'd learn much, even if we do have our differences."

"Here, take a load off your feet," said Hermione, scooting out a chair for her friend. "If you feel that way, then why don't you ask him to instruct you in the way of magical tutelage?"

"That's a brilliant idea Mione. Why didn't I think of that myself," said Harry. "He keeps pushing the importance of the prophecy, the least he could do is assist me in gaining the power that I need to have a fighting chance against Voldemort."

"I honestly don't know. You're absolutely right though, V-voldemort has decades of magical experience more than you do."

Hating to bring it up, Harry said, "I've got several things that I need to talk to you and Ron about some of which will have to wait until you both have mastered the basics of Occlumency, and they're so sensitive that they can't be discussed anywhere with less privacy than the Room of Requirement. But I can tell you however what I learned from the Headmaster tonight."

Hermione rubbed her hands together in glee.

"Accio Occlumency books," cast Harry after retrieving his wand.

Harry and Hermione were treated to a deafening ruckus as the books that Hermione had given him the other day, after he fell off of his broom, came careening down the boy's staircase; they seemed to hit every object on their path towards the wizard who had summoned them. Harry was greatful that he had left his trunk unlocked after he'd finished reading the papers that he was given about his disease, because he realized belatedly that if his trunk lid had been fascened, how would the books reach him.

Hermione looked askance at the carelessness that Harry seemed to have for the precious library books that she had checked out of the library herself.

"HARRY!"

"Take a chill pill," said Harry who quickly dodged out of the way of said books, knocking his chair over in the process. "I've got it under control."

"I can see that," came Hermione's extremely sarcastic reply.

The books crashed to the floor; the noise resembled a loud clap of thunder, one so fierce that it would have rattled the windows with it's ferocity if the noise weren't merely from several very thick books hitting the stone floor.

"Harry James Potter! If I have to tell you one more time!"

"Alright," said Harry letting out a long-suffering sigh. Harry picked up the unscathed books, then he took his seat once more. "See, they're alright. I told you that there was nothing to worry about. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Hermione reached out and snatched the books from her careless friend, holding them to her chest like they were ruddy precious gems or something.

"After that little stunt, we'd best get on with things, before the rest of the tower comes down to see what's going on," replied Harry, who proceeded to tell Hermione everything that Albus had shown him this evening; he made a point to mention to her that it was hinted that Riddle had been abused, and that his mum had bewitched his father who was a muggle, and even that he was more than likely unloved and abused, but that it was no excuse for what he became. The abused aren't predestined to become the abusers, and it always hacked Harry off when people, including the Headmaster made it seem like it was some sort of excuse.

Hdhdhd

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I put in the second to last scene because I wanted you readers to have some insight into Harrys mindset during the first horcrux memory. Most of the text has been adapted to fit the needs of the plot. Sorry about the shorter than usual chapter, I've got to get to studying for a major English test that's due tomorrow. I will try to have the next chapter posted before finals week.

For those of you who asked to see more of Ron and Hermione, I decided to let you get a glimpse as to what Ron's been up to while supposedly on prefect rounds, and you also got to see Hermione, plus Harry confided a little in her. Will she be the second to learn about his illness, or will she figure it out on her own?

Note, Harry's thoughts regarding the stereotypical mindset that the abused can and do become the abuser and that it's an acceptable excuse is utter rubbish mirrors my own opinion, and if you've been through what Harry has, then there's no way that you can believe otherwise. BTW Hope you liked. Please let me know if their are any formatting issues in this chapter, unfortunately, it's a text file and text files don't play nice with fanfiction. I've spent a considerable amount of time replacing each and every quote and simple stuff like that which would prove to be a distraction to the reader.


	11. Chapter 11: the DA part I

Diagnosis

A/N: Sorry that this took so long, I took a Harry Potter related English course this semester and have been busy writing esays for it, now that it's over, hopefully I can update more regularly.

For all of you who inquired as to whether Severus will be playing an important role in the fic, you'll soon get your answer, if the fact that he'll be brewing and administering the potions to Potter doesn't give it away already.

I'm basing the dosage and all-around nasty taste of prednisone from the prednisone I was prescribed one time for asthma. I do realize that that's probably not a realistic dosage for a cancer patient to take for a long period of time, so after a few weeks, they'll cut his dose down to a "maintenance dose". Prednisone really does taste rather horrid. And the plot thickens…

Thanks for sticking with me beyond the 100 K word milestone. Your support, creteaks, and kind words are what has made both me and this fic what it is today. And congrats to PyroFyre1214 for being reviewer number 100.

Recommended story: It Only Takes A Drop of Blood by Lady Gallatea Ravenclaw; I know I'm always on the lookout for well-written cancer fics,and if you enjoy them too, (if that wasn't your cup of tea then I doubt you'd be reading my fic lol), here's another one that's still being updated. Check it out, this fic is where I got my inspiration to adopt this fic from, and the cancer party that Harry's going to attend was also inspired by her fic, though I won't plagerize her work, I wanted to give her credit.

Disclaimer: Don't own the Potter verse, never will.

Chapter Eleven: the DA part I

Hdhdhd

Harry awoke early on Saturday morning, well rested after the very strenuous day he had endured the day prior. Sitting up and crawling to the foot of his bed (with the hangings firmly closed), Harry grabbed his pajamas from the bottom of the bed; he rarely slept in anything other than his underclothes, but more often than not, he went to bed in the nude. Last night was no different, and even though he was certain that his roommates were still fast asleep, Harry really REALLY didn't fancy giving them an eyefull. So he put on the pajamas and pulled open the hangings in preparation for greeting the day ahead.

Harry quietly got up and retrieved his clean but ratty old clothes. Deciding to take a shower, in the hopes that by the time he was done, Neville would be up to talk with him before he had to go to the hospital wing for his embarrassing but necessary task.

Neville had promised he would after Harry had returned the night before, too exhausted to inform Ron about what Dumbledore had confided in him about Tom Riddle's parents. It troubled him how Merope's so-called family had belittled and demeaned her, because of her near squibhood. They didn't even once stop to consider that it was their wretched abuse that caused her faltering and spiradic magic. Was this what Dumbledore's lessons were supposed to convey to him? That Tom Riddle's fate could've very easily been his own or that it still could be his fate, if he didn't do what the leader of the light commanded him too, although Riddle had grown up without a family in an orphanage,; provided that the false memory that Tom Riddle had shown him from the diary in his second year was accurate about his home-life, where he was neglected if not physically abused. After all, Harry grew up with a family who were supposed to care for him, but they abused and neglected him to the point of starvation. With the threat of being chucked in an orphanage constantly held over his head where (his relatives falsely claimed) that he'd be tortured and sexually abused, then hoisted off to a family where the Dursleys treatment was child's play in comparison, he would have been a fool to tell a teacher in primary school. If one really thought deeply into the matter, they'd clearly notice the similarities of Lord Voldemort and his childhoods. Though Harry furtively believed that one being abused as a child doesn't always excuse them growing up to become abusers in return. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that if Dumbles had just stepped in and removed Tom from the orphanage, he wouldn't have became the rabid dog he was today. So he amended his way of thinking, to the fact that abuse can become a cycle, and it takes a lot of strength and perseverance to become a person who helps others who have been abused, and not to abuse them. His first lesson Harry suspected hadn't gotten the message through his head that the headmaster wanted: that Riddle was a monster and that his being abused was of no consequence…but he was wrong, that's why he did what he did. The Boy-who-lived empathized with Riddle for the first time in his life, though he was fully aware that their was no saving Riddle from himself, because the man was so hell-bent on killing him; he'd be forced by the prophecy that was only effective because Tom believed in it like it was the holy grail, to kill or be killed.

Shaking himself out of his dark thoughts, Harry grabbed the bundle of his clean clothes from the bedside table – a ratty old pair of jeans and a jumper which he planned to wear under his wizarding robes for his appointment into muggle territory later in the afternoon. He was very glad that he remembered to do so, that way all he'd have to do before going into the Muggle world was remove his robes; this was far more simpler than having to transfigure his robes into another outfit that was more suitable for the occasion. Because transfigurations were notorious for switching back into their original components, if the spell was cast incorrectly (and Harry's transfiguration skills weren't what his dad's were). He couldn't go into hospital wearing what for all intents and purposes looked like a muggle woman's dress to his appointment at the cancer hospital after all. Even if his muggle clothes were far from decent, as far as he knew, looking like a poor pauper wasn't exactly the new fad…but what did he know, he really hadn't been in touch with the Muggle world for more than the summertimes ever since he had started at Hogwarts.

Once he entered the shower room, Harry placed his neatly folded clothes on the counter before turning on the shower.

Stepping into the warm spray, Harry relaxed for the first time in three days. Ever since the incident in the hospital wing where he had threatened to end it all on Wednesday, his nerves had remained as tight as a bow with an arrow attached, where the bow could twang back and let fly the arrow at any moment, or in Harry's case, the imminent and eventually inevitable breakdown that was to come at the knowledge of his impending cancer treatment.

The Gryffindor scratched his left arm, noticing the peculiar red blotches that covered his skin. What were they from? Was their just something that made his magic go all wonky whenever needles were involved in his treatment of any ailment of any kind? Because this wasn't the first time he had noticed redness and had his skin itch like mad after going to hospital or having a blood draw. But it went away last time this happened, so I'll just give it time. No need to tell Poppy about it, it'd only freak her out in misguided concern for him. On some level of his subconscious, he knew that this attitude of seeming carelessness with his health was a product of the Dursleys abuse.

Picking up the bottle of shampoo, Harry squirted some into his hand and began to massage his scalp, rubbing the shampoo in, then rinsing his hair thoroughly. With a pang of uneasiness and sadness, Harry realized that this task would soon be unnecessary, as the treatment would likely make all of his raven black hair fall out. This would cut his ordinarily short shower routine even more…but he still had his hair, and he could put away such feelings of dread aside for the time being.

A few minutes later, Harry turned off the tap, then stepped out, grabbing a fluffy towel from the stack of towels that the Hogwarts house elves left out for the students on a daily basis.

He hurriedly got dressed then took on the arduous job of combing his thick hair while listening to the magical mirror insulting both his choice of dress and the futility of fighting the losing battle with his hair.

Snatching his toothbrush from the counter, Harry brushed his teeth in record time; the ruddy mirror was really getting under his skin this morning with it's constant nagging and insults. Just before he was about to stalk out of the room in a huff, he remembered that it might be a good idea for him to use the mirror who had just gotten through yet another round of criticisms about muggle raised teens these days, to have a look at his arm.

With a feeling of slight apprehension, Harry pushed up his sleeves and glanced down…but what he saw their shocked him to the very core

The skin was now blood red, and where before their were blotches of redness now in their place were angry red welts.

What was he going to do?

Tell Neville or Poppy?

No, that just wouldn't do; Neville wouldn't know the cause for such a problem, and Poppy would smother him with concern. Performing any magical test on him known to man and he was going to have to endure a battery of muggle testing later; that was enough testing for one day in his opinion. And this would prevent him from holding the first D.A. meeting today, since he had to be at hospital at one.

He would be fine until healer – doctor Robertson met them at the muggle hospital later on. He had to remind himself to stop calling him his healer, because if he slipped up later, it could make for awkward questions, to which their would be no plausible answer that he could give to the muggles.

Grabbing his pajamas and toothbrush, Harry pushed the door open and tossed his barely dirty pajamas into the hamper situated in the sixth year boy's dorm, where the elves would collect it to be washed and then returned to him after it was dry.

"Hey,"muttered a groggy Neville.

"Look what the troll drug in from the wash room."

"Shut it you," said Harry teasingly.

"I have a nagging feeling that our roommates would appreciate it if we took our conversation elsewhere," said Harry, forgetting that a simple silencing charm would do the trick.

"Nah mate. That's too much trouble for my tired self. Let's just sit on my bed. If I draw the curtains and cast a silencing charm, we won't be disturbed."

"How silly of me to forget something so elementary. It's rudimentary charms. Gees, I swear, sometimes being muggle raised really has it's drawbacks when it comes to wizarding common sense," said Harry self-deprecatingly.

"Stop beating yourself up Harry. I was as clueless about simple muggle things when I first started venturing into the muggle world. Don't sweat it."

"What did you see fit to go into the muggle world for, when wizarding pureblood families usually degrade them for their technology and stuff?"

"The Longbottom family doesn't hold the same ideology as say the Nott's or the Zabini's. We have nothing against muggles. That doesn't mean however that we're complacent and careless when it comes to ensuring the statute of secrecy. Because the technology that muggles have concocted especially in the way of warfare is astounding and troubling. If they found out about us and the imminent threat that you-know-who poses to them, they'd wipe us out with a nuclear bomb."

"To right," said Harry. "But how'd you find out about nuclear bombs?"

"Elisa drug me to the cinema to see a film over the summer. It was about America and Russia's disagreement and the Soviet Union. According to the film, the events depicted in the film were fictitious…you just never know though. So when in doubt, it's best to air on the side of caution," Neville chuckled. "I had to persuade Elisa that it was best that we got back to hospital for her next chemotherapy treatment, lest the main antagonist villain swoop down and get her. The hilarious part is that she took me deadly serious."

Harry tried to hold in his laughter – he really did, but he just couldn't do it anymore.

"R-really," choked out Harry amidst gales of laughter. "So the muggles are going to torpedo us all if the dark lord isn't vanquished. I didn't know that you had started going all Mad-Eye Moody on us now mate." Harry said this in complete and utter jest, but unfortunately, it could become a reality. Now for the first time, he was able to fully appreciate the seriousness and necessity of the statute of secrecy that nearly got him expelled in the summer of his fifth year.

"How am I supposed to know," said Neville raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm not the chosen one, who's destined to destroy the evil megalomaniac." Neville had no idea just how completely true his words were, or how close he was to becoming the boy-who-lived instead of Harry. At times, Harry wished that he hadn't had that roll thrust upon him, but then his parents would be the ones in St. Mongo's and that was a fate worse than death. Not to mention how much more equip his hard life had made him for the fight ahead.

Checking the time with a tempus, Harry decided that whilst their playing around had been fun, he had things to do this morning – like visit Poppy, locate and take his meds, get things set up for the DA…and the list just went on and on and all of that was before lunchtime rolls around.

Getting to the point as to why Neville had gotten up at the crack of dawn to talk to him in the first place, Harry asked in a serious tone. "Last night, I asked you if you had any information about my different options by which my potions and other potential life-saving medications can be delivered by. Can you tell me more about them?"

"Well, as healer Robertson already told you, the Hickman line will be inserted in your upper right chest, just below the collar bone into either a vein or blood vessel…I can never remember which is which. Four tubes will be protruding from the spot on your chest. And according to Elisa, the Hickman will be taped to your upper 'belly' as she so eloquently puts it. The Hickman is more visible to others…and I know how much that would annoy you. There's the additional risk of an opponent in battle wiping one of the lumen out of your chest. This would cause you to start bleeding pretty badly. I'm not trying to scare you, but for most patients such a risk of bleeding if it's removed isn't a risk thus the doctors don't usually share this information with the patient. But your situation is unique and I thought you might want to be aware of this when making your decision. However, Elisa has the Hickman because it involves next to no needle sticks."

Harry gnawed his lip. If everything hadn't been so complicated and he hadn't been famous, where anyone could sell a wizarding photograph to the Daily Profet of the scary sounding device where it would be published in the paper, and if Voldemort hadn't been after his blood, where the risk of it being dislodged during the heat of battle wasn't a possibility, then he wouldn't need to hear about the other option. Because the Hickman sounded like the best option – especially since it would involve him never having to deal with needle sticks, unless something out-of-the-ordinary happened…but alas his life was far from simple. Hence the decision couldn't be based on a what-if scenario, because he was famous, and as Seamus's little stunt with his t-shirt had so thoroughly proven, his acquaintances might sell the information that he had need of a medical device to a reporter, and Voldemort wasn't dead. Harry was going to need every advantage possible if he was going to beat him, and this included not having a line of tubing hanging from his chest…well not really hanging since it would be taped to his body…but if Voldemort ever found out that all he had to do to cause him to start bleeding like crazy was to yank the device out, he would. And Harry had no intentions to handicap himself anymore than his cancer already would in the upcoming war.

"Are their any other lines that are less bulky, but that would still not involve the necessity of needle sticks," asked Harry hesitantly.

"According to Elisa, her friend Lucy has another type of central line, but healer Robertson didn't mention it to you, so I suspect that for some reason or other, it isn't an option for you. Besides, any type of central line, i.e. the Hickman or other central line, require a lot of maintenance care. If you still want to keep this as secret as possible, either of these two choices raises the risk of one of our dorm mates seeing you flush the device with heparin daily, and it's bound to raise questions…"

"And this flushing process has to be done every day," asked Harry of his friend, knowing that since he only recently met his cousin, that he only knew a little more than Harry did when it came to this whole cancer business.

"From what I understand, yes. The flushing process is absolutely necessary both to help prevent infection from entering your body, and so that the medication used to treat your cancer, be it chemotherapy or the potions that you'll be taking, are very toxic and aren't supposed to be mixed, therefore the device must be flushed to prevent that from happening."

Harry was amazed at how knowledgeable Neville sounded about this; it reassured him slightly to know that he had at least one friend who truly understood what he was going through – or as well as a friend could who didn't have cancer.

"What about that port thingy?"

"I haven't really heard that much about that one mate," said Neville apologetically. "But like healer Robertson said, it will involve more needle sticks. Which makes me suspect that their isn't a line in place all of the time, and that that's why the needle sticks are necessary before every treatment session."

Harry gulped.

That didn't sound at all pleasant, but it was looking more and more like the best option he had.

"Nev," asked Harry uncharacteristically shyly.

"Yeah."

"Was your offer to accompany me to hospital a legitimate one?"

"Sure thing. I would never say such a thing unless I intended on carrying through with it. You should know me better than that…"

Harry's eyes moistened slightly at his friend's perceived kindness. No one had willingly offered to go with him to hospital before…but then again, all of the previous hospital visits that the Dursleys took him to, they had caused…so they didn't really count now did they?

"Last night, when you came in, you were to tired to notice, but someone put a note on top of your trunk. Here let me get it for you," offered Neville getting off his bed once he had drawn back the hangings once more to get said missive.

Taking the proffered bit of parchment from his friend, Harry recognized the handwriting; it was from Hermione.

The note was concise and to the point.

Harry:

Both requests you made of me have been completed; the galleons have been set to the approximate date and time of the meeting by now, and word has had ample time to get around to anyone else where and when the meeting is. I should warn you though, Colin has inspired others to come to the meeting, and I can't help but be curious as to their true reasoning for attending; I fear that he's started up a fan club in your honor regretfully. I snuck up to your dorm as you must've sussed out by now, with the dual purpose of placing this note on your trunk and to ward your trunk to ensure against further thievery of your possessions.

Hermione

"I don't believe it," hissed Harry furiously.

"What is it," asked Neville.

"You know that Creevey kid who walks around with a camera, he's always been a little over zealous when it comes to anything to do with me. He's a big fan of mine," said Harry with disgust that someone could worship him so devotedly. "He's gone and started up a bloody fan club that's all about the boy-who-lived. So expect lots of giggling rabid fan girls to put a kink in things today."

"That's bloody fantastic," said Neville facetiously. "We're really going to accomplish a lot today."

"Yeah I know. We won't even have to take a moment to fix people's misconceptions about me, now that the fans of Harry Potter, wizard extraordinaire have arrived to fill everyone in for us," said Harry his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Hey Nev, I need to tell you something." Harry rubbed his sweaty palms together nervously. For he was about to tell Neville his worst fears.

Neville watched apprehensively as Harry's deamenour completely changed from what it was only moments ago.

"Yeah mate, I'm listening," came Neville's reply. Neville feared what else his friend had yet to tell him, the diar note in Harry's voice gave the Gryffindor pause.

"You know that when I came in last night I was beat."

"Uh huh."

"I had the first of several meetings with the Headmaster last evening. I believed them to be lessons of a magical nature, and they were…in a manner of speaking."

"Okay," said Neville hoping to keep his friend talking.

"Well I learned a lot to say the least."

Neville nodded his head.

"And I don't really know how I feel about the information that was revealed to me. You see, it appears that the Headmaster has continued his habit of keeping diar information from me yet again."

If Neville had to guess what his friend was nattering on about, it would have something to do with that prophecy that they had gone to the DOM to retrieve last June. Because what else could it be really?

"He didn't teach me a blasted thing! Oh no,that'd be to easy. Instead, he showed me memories concerning Tom Riddle's upbringing. We watched Bob Ogdin's memory of the day he was sent to serve a warrent to the Gaunt son for hexing a muggle. And he was horrified to discover that Merope Gaunt was abused and belittled to the point that she could hardly perform a repairo charm. The abuse and degredation that she went through was shocking to say the least. You'd think that purebloods don't abuse their magical children for fear that they'd turn dark and seek deserved revenge. She went on to bewitch the very same muggle that had elegedly been hexed into having her child. Needless to say, he ditched her the first opportunity he got. She died during childbirth and the baby was left to grow up in an orphanage where he in turn was abused and bullyed. He later grew up into the monster that we know as Lord Voldemort."

Neville was gobsmacked at the plethora of information that Harry had heaped on him. He now had a good idea where Harry was going with all of this. Earlier in the week, Harry had confided in him about both his cancer and how he was treated by his so-called relatives. Just like Neville had feared that he was a squib, Harry probably feared that he'd turn into an abuser, and unfortunately, Neville could give his friend little comfort, because statistics supported that hypothesis.

Harry gulped nervously. "I talked to Hermione and told her about the memory, but I didn't tell her what I'm about to tell you now," said Harry. "On several occasions,, my uncle has consistently told me that I'd grow up to be just like him, because his dad taught him 'lessons' just like he was doing to me. And I-I'm a-afraid t-that h-he's r-right."

"You have a greater chance to avoid that happening, because you see, there's one thing that separates you from the men that your uncle and Riddle are, you can love others, where they seek only power and control. Plus you've got friends here to support you every step of the way mate. I can't really say with certainty that you won't do so, but I can promise you that you won't be alone. And the fact that the thought of abusing any future children worrys you already proves that you're trying your best not to become your uncle and that's a start."

Neville could only hope that his words would provide his friend with the reassurance he needed to start the journey of healing from the abuse.

"Thanks Neville," said Harry gratitude clear in his voice.

"Also, while I won't lie to you, I can give you this reassurance. There's no doubt that abuse follows a cycle and it effects everyone it touches in one way or another; people react in one of two ways, they either repeat the learned behavior because they reason to themselves that if they survived it then it can't really be that bad, or they react so vviolently to what's been done to them that they vow never to inflict such atrocities on another human being no matter the cost. Either way, it has an impact on everyone whose an abuse surviver. And I think that it's obvious which path you've chosen Harry. You have a nack for forgiveness that I can only aspire to."

"What do you mean," asked Harry perplexed.

"You now consider Malfoy your opponent instead of your archenemy, and I can't even bring myself to forgive Bellabitch for torturing my parents."

"I don't blame you mate. I only forgive those who truly show a desire to change, and Bellabitch better hope she doesn't run into me in a dark alley…she killed my g-godfather." Harry restrained himself from letting slip Sirius's name at the last second.

Harry wondered how Neville sounded so knowledgeable about such things. Perhaps the quiet boy had a lot to offer in the way of friendship and just hadn't been given the opportunity to do so by his peers. Well Harry was going to make sure that Neville felt apart of a group for once, if it was the last thing he did, because he really owed it to the lad after all he'd done to help him thus far.

Returning to their discussion of a few moments ago about Hermione, Neville asked, "Did you share any of this with Hermione last night?"

"No, she really doesn't understand where I'm coming from. And honestly if it hadn't been for that troll all those years ago, we probably wouldn't even have become friends. Don't get me wrong, she's the best female friend a bloke could have, but she just doesn't get it. It's abundantly clear that she grew up in a happy home, and I'm glad for her, but we don't talk about the Dursleys much; I seriously misdirected her about some stuff last night and feel rotten about it now. For all she knows, they just kept me in a cupboard and that's why I made it out to her last night like I was naive enough to think that the abused will never become the abuser. I couldn't bare to destroy the innocence that one has who has grown up in a happy home, you know." No, Neville didn't know, but at least he tried to see where his friend was coming from.

"I hate to sound cliche, but there's also something else I need to discuss with you. And on this matter, I must stress that you keep this to yourself, and if you're not prepared to do so, even at wandpoint, then just tell me now, and I won't tell you."

Not wanting to disappoint his friend, Neville of course agreed.

"I haven't ever dared to tell anyone else since I heard the troubling news myself. You can't tell another living soul."

Neville nodded and closed his eyes. "You know you can trust me, Harry; you've trusted me this far. I've kept my mouth shut up to this point."

"I know," came the reply. Another strained silence, this time broken by Harry clearing his throat. "You know how I knew your birthday was around the end of July?"

"Not really... I assumed someone told you..."

"Dumbledore mentioned it at the end of last term, the night S-Sirius died," Harry admitted. "But not just so that I could wish you a happy birthday, when I saw you later. He told me about a prophecy, Neville."

Neville's brown eyes widened commicly at that, and he started stumbling over his words, which he hadn't done since that dreaded night in June. "Prophecy? Is that... I mean it was... but how?"

"Yeah, it was the one that broke in the Department of Mysteries last term," Harry said, guessing at what the boy was trying to ask him about. "But the omnificent Albus Dumbledore knew it, because it had been told to him originally. And get a load of this, Professor Trelawney was the one who told him on the evening of her first interview for the devination post at Hogwarts no less."

A flabbergasted Neville nodded. "So, I'm a part of a prophecy, am I?"

"No."

"But I thought..."

"You could have been," Harry interrupted him. "It could have been either of us. Both of us were born as the seventh month died, and both of our parents had defied Voldemort three times. But in the end, he chose me."

"Voldemort?"

Harry was quite impressed that Neville actually said the name without stumbling or sounding afraid for once. "Yeah. I guess I have power that he doesn't understand, or something, which means that one of us is going to kill the other; that is if the cancer doesn't kick me in the gonads first. I'm the only one who can kill him after all. That, or be killed by him."

"How do you know it's you and not me?" Neville asked quietly, not wanting to think he was suddenly a target and supposed to be a saviour as well.

Harry lifted his bangs up sheepishly, exposing his scar for the boy to see clearly. "He 'marked me as an equal,'" he explained. "Which means he chose me, and that set the prophecy in stone. It's me, not you."

Their conversation gradually turned from the unpleasant into much more pleasant territory, until it was time for Harry to go see Madame Pomfrey.

With a sigh, Harry declared. "I best be off to the hospital wing. If I don't get down their soon, I suspect she's going to send a search party."

hdhdhdhd

Fifteen minutes later, Harry arrived outside the wooden double doors that led to Poppy's sanctuary.

Harry was surprised to say the least when he saw Poppy bustling around the ward doing the necessary tasks that come with the job of being Hogwarts only medi-witch so early, when their were currently no patients for once.

"Hey."

Poppy jumped like Lucius Malfoy himself was after her, upon hearing an unexpected voice from just behind her.

Putting a hand to her mouth in shock Poppy said. "Pleased to see you on this fine morning Mr. Potter. But don't you think you overdid the shock factor a bit?"

"Nah," said Harry smiling. "Since you were the one to whom I was told to come to make my contribution to the "Little Harry's Orphaned Children's fund" after all," said Harry seemingly nonplused.

"That's not funny Harry. First off, there's no need for you to be so glib about matters. Your children will not become orphans. I've got full faith that a combination of your loving friends and the muggle and magical treatment will pull you through no matter your prognosis."

"Thanks for your optimism, but science beats hopes and dreams every time."

"Is Mr. Longbottom going to accompany you and Professor Snape-"

Harry cut in before she could continue. "Woe! Wait just a minute. When I told you that you could tell the professor about my condition and that he could brew the potions for me, their was never anything mentioned about him playing nurse maid to me."

Poppy tried to suppress the smile that was bursting to break out on her lips. "Funny, those are the exact words that Professor Snape said when healer Robertson and I told him last night. You know that I would take you if I could, but I've got to stay here to take care of any wayward students who manage to injure themselves in the meantime. You've got nothing to worry about. I assure you that Professor Snape will comport himself with the proper decorum demanded of someone of his position."

"Whatever," muttered Harry none the happier for her meaningless platitudes. "You really think that Neville will agree to come now that his most feared professor is tagging along?"

"If Severus gives you any grief, feel free to let me know when you arrive back here tomorrow."

"W-what did you say? I'm going to have to stay the night in Hospital?"

"Yes, the doctors could allow you to come home and then return tomorrow for your procedure to implant the device for your treatment, but they want to make sure that your vitals are stable throughout the night and that you don't eat or drink anything after midnight."

"Oh pleeeaaassseeeee don't tell me that Professor Snape is going to be forced to be their all night to hold my hand!"

"No. Unless you wish for him too," shot back Poppy slyly.

"What's stopping him from leaving either Neville or myself stranded at the hospital tomorrow "accidentally?"

"…Nothing, but he wouldn't dare lest he suffers my wrath. But that's besides the point since you have your bracelet as a last line of defense. Never forget that."

Changing the subject abruptly, Harry asked. "Um, Poppy?"

"Yes."

"How am I going to pay for my treatment? Isn't my muggle treatment alone going to be quite costly?"

"Probably, but in the UK all children under sixteen, and those sixteen through eighteen who are in school are qualified for their medical costs to be taken care of courtesy of the NHS, (National Health Service). And that includes children undergoing cancer treatments. Though your potions won't be covered since we have to write them into the muggle paperwork as clinical trials which aren't always covered. All Muggle medications you will need are free of charge courtacy of the UK taxpayers."

Harry rubbed his hands together nervously. "I'll still be able to get them won't I?"

"The Potters left you with a decent amount of gold, you needn't worry about costs, especially since a certain black dog has gone into the great beyond," said Poppy looking at Harry significantly.

Woe! Hold on a minute, how did Poppy know about Sirius, let alone that he left a substantial amount of his earthly possessions to me when Dumbledore only told me that last night after the viewing of the memory?

Seeing the stunned expression on Harry's face, Poppy hastily reassured, "I am a member of the Order. And I'm aware of the previous owner of Headquarters identity and that they were innocent. As well as the fact that he wished for only the best for you. It isn't that hard to deduce given that knowledge, that he would leave his gold and the decrepit old house to you to do with as you will, because who else did he have to leave it too? Since most of his remaining family members are either dead, formally disowned (which means that they can't officially be bequieved anything in the will directly), or battier than a senile old man with a long white beard."

Harry laughed bitterly. "I doubt that covering my cancer treatments is what he intended me to use the money for. Knowing him, he left it to me with the hopes that it would all go towards a vicious prank war between Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"And when not if you recover, you can use the remaining funds to live your life to the fullest. So you will still indirectly be using it to ensure your ultimate happiness. That's all any godfather could want for their only charge."

"Um, I kinda need to go back to my dorm and get my pills to take during breakfast, so I sort of need to get on with things if you know what I mean," gestured Harry awkwardly.

"Ah, yes…well then. Come right this way."

Harry followed Poppy sheepishly. This was to date the most humiliating thing he had to do; how was he expected to 'get off' with a woman who he considered a paternal figure standing right outside the door?

Harry reached out hastily and grabbed the empty plastic cup with a lid atop it and entered the lavatory door that Poppy had led him too.

When he was finished, Harry left the cup of his DNA sitting on a counter in the loo, washed his hands and did his best to walk out as calmly as could be, as if nothing awkward and embarrassing had happened. This wasn't the way he envisioned making babies, but if the radiotherapy made him sterile, then he would be shooting blanks for the rest of his life; this could be his only chance.

"Do you have any questions for me before you leave," asked Poppy ever the professional, acting as if she didn't know what had been going on only moments ago behind that locked door.

"Do you happen to have a spare pill so that I don't have to go back to my dorm and get one before breakfast?"

"Yes, I thought that your nerves might be a bit high strung this morning, so I had your healer give me a dose for just this occasion. Have you even looked at the bottle," asked Poppy, suspecting that after yesterday it might've slipped his mind that he had to take the pills.

"Erm, when I got back yesterday after the meeting with Albus, the one that I told you about a while ago, I was to emotionally spent to remember to take them."

"That's quite alright," said Poppy reassuringly. "But just don't make a habit of it. Cancer patients sometimes think that they don't have to adhere strictly to their drug regimen, but it's vital that you do so. Over the next few days, you will be given all of the medications that you will need to take and a schedule of times and days that you need to take them. Some drugs are absorbed by your body faster than others, and if your dosing schedule gets off even by a little, the effects can be dangerous if one drugs level gets to high, you could OD just by a simple miscalculation. Consequently, if the drug gets below it's therapeutic level (too low) you need to let someone know so that we can take preventative measures. During your cancer treatment, if the drug is taken to often or not often enough this will make your cancer treatment less effective than if you had followed the instructions carefully. Everyone makes mistakes,and it's possible that at times during your treatment, you'll fall violently ill, so much so that you won't be able to keep the drugs down if you take them orally; that's why there'll be a small supply of the drugs you'll need throughout the course of treatment here so that I or Severus can give you the drug interveniously. I'm not trying to scare you, but you need to know that if your steroids specify that you take them at noon, that doesn't mean two as to hide it from people, it means noon. I'm sorry that you must deal with the facts of life that come hand and hand with being a cancer patient. Healer Robertson and myself will do our best to make the transition easier for you. If you miss a dose once the drugs have been in your system for over a week, it's crucial that you let one of us know as soon as possible. And don't forget, Severus now knows of your circumstances so he can help you too."

Harry blushed.

"So which steroid am I on? The leaflet that I read yesterday said that people who are given radiotherapy for brain tumors often times take dexamethasone, is that what I'll be taking? And how many times a day do I take it?"

"No. You'll be taking prednisone; it's similar to dexamethasone. It just has less severe side-effects. Prednisone is taken three times a day, for the first two weeks,, healer Robertson prescribed two pills each for breakfast and lunch, then one for dinner. For weeks three and four of the radiation treatment, you take two pills for breakfast, and one each for lunch and dinner consecutively. And your maintenance dose (which is to be taken until you're tumor free) is one pill by mouth at each meal. Now that should be easy to remember, which makes me wonder if you even looked at the bottle at all," admonished Poppy.

Harry shook his head sheepishly.

"I'm really sorry for that Poppy. I shouldn't have forgotten about the pills no matter what cayodic things happened or will happen in my life. I'm the boy-who-lived, and certain expectations are required of me, and I can't let my own illness get in the way of those aspects no matter what!" Harry was grateful in a sense that Poppy remained very much ignorant of the prophecy, because if she knew about it, she'd be all in a tizzy after his previous statement; saying meaningless platitudes like "The fate of the wizarding world doesn't lay on your shoulders alone." Or "It wasn't your fault, you-know-who murdered so-and-so, not you." Harry really wasn't in the mood to listen to such, consequently, he decided to wait until things calmed down a bit to tell her the contents of the prophecy. He felt the need to confide all in someone, but now wasn't the time.

"It's not a big deal that you missed your first dose. You're going to have to do better from now on though," chided Poppy mildly.

"Got it."

"The steroid that you'll be taking has fewer side-effects than some, but more than others. Firstly, it's recommended that you take prednisone on a full stomach in order to prevent the nausea from worsening. Other side-effects include, weight gain, night sweats, inability to sleep, feeling of hunger, acne, bruising of the skin, redness of the skin etc, frequent urination, dizziness, blurry vision, if you're taking the drug for an extended period of time brittle bones and sugar and protein in urine (which is a sign of either long term or short term diabetes), changes in mood or behavior…"

"That's enough," said Harry worriedly. "I can't listen to any more side-effects just now. If I start having any more side-effects, I'll come and see you if it's alright with you. I just can't sit here and listen to the ever-increasing list of horrid side-effects that all of the potions and pills and radiation waves are going to affect my body any longer."

Putting a soothing hand on her patient's shoulder, Poppy said "I understand. You can get through this. Though I must warn you that allergic reactions to prednisone are particularly unpleasant. You need to alert the closest person around you if your tongue swells, you get hives, your face swells, or your throat swells to the point where it's uncomfortable to breathe, as these are all signs of Anaphylactic shock and the patient requires immediate assistance to breathe if that happens." Some people might criticize Poppy for informing her patient of the more severe side-effects of the drugs that they'll be taking, but Poppy knew that for this particular patient, he would rather her tell him the brutal truth about things than for her to sugar-code it in a misguided attempt to protect him from the horrible side-effects of the various drugs and therapies that a cancer patient might experience.

"Thanks for being straight with me," said Harry swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Here is your morning dose," said Poppy handing him two very small pills. "I'll have Dobby bring you some soup to eat before you take them. What's your favorite soup?"

"If it's Dobby who'll be bringing it up, ask him if it's too much trouble for him to bring me some of that scrumptious pumpkin soup that he makes. And if he raises any objections to me having soup for breakfast, just make him think that I'm ill in the hospital and my stomach can't handle anything else. I'm really craving some good old homemade pumpkin soup. Right about now."

Poppy chuckled. "Dobby is your biggest fan; I don't think he'd ever tell the infamous Harry Potter 'no."

Harry grinned.

"You're right."

After enjoying a very tasty soup for breakfast, Harry took a swig of the doctored pumpkin juice and quickly swallowed the tiny pills.

"Bleh!"

"Steroids often times leave a bitter aftertaste. I'd suggest you try swallowing them with a drink that has a particularly strong flavor to disguise the bitterness."

"Why can't medications or potions for that matter, ever taste pleasant?"

"Because then teenagers would make it a habit to imbibe in drugs and potions instead of just mere alcoholic beverages more than they already do."

A light bulb went off in Harry's brain. "Um, can house elves procure any muggle fizzy drinks?"

"I honestly don't know. But I'll ask Dobby if you'd like. Because if any house elf has the ingenuity to pull a stunt like that off, it'd be him. Why do you want muggle fizzy drinks though?"

"You suggested that I start taking the prednisone with a drink with a strong flavor, and cola has a very appealing and pungent taste. Plus, the Dursleys only let me have cola one time at an outing that they were forced to drag me along to, when Mrs. Figg was unable to watch me. A nice lady at the concession stand saw that they weren't going to order me anything, so she made it seem like her error then she made an extra cola for me. Uncle Vernon tried to persuade her that he didn't have the money for his nephew to have a drink, but she proceeded to inform him that the cola was "on the house"; you said that I should fulfill everything on my list, and having cola with a meal would make me happy."

Harry suspected that part of Poppy's sudden and unquestioning attitude stimmed from regret over his wretched childhood, but at this very moment, he couldn't bring himself to care why she agreed, just that in the end, she did acquiesce. "AL righty then. Is their anything else that I can do for you? If not, then I'd highly recommend that you get a move on if you want to keep up appearances to your friends."

"Um, there's one other thing…"

"What is it Harry?"

"Do you have a piece of parchment and a quill that I can use to write a short letter?"

"Sure. Give me a minute to go get it."

Once Poppy had returned from her office, Harry took the proffered parchment, quill and ink pot from Poppy and began to write a letter, taking particular care not to say to much in case the letter was intercepted on it's way to Headquarters.

Dear Moony:

Things have been rather eventful around here. I can't say everything that I need to say to you in a letter; do you have any idea where the brother mirror to Padfoot's is? The head chicken of the flock of birds told me that you'll be departing to do some "recruiting of those like yourself" and I know that that more than likely means that you won't be around for a while. I broke my brother to Padfoot's mirror, but since I'm pretty sure he didn't have it on him at the DOM, I suspect that you'll find it if you search in his bedroom for it. If we can find a matching set, please ensure that one heads in my direction. But that being said, that isn't why I put quill to parchment in the first place: I was wondering if there was any way that you could procure a Boggart for me. It'd be used for the same reason that we used it for during my private lessons. The club is starting up again, and people need at least a pseudo specter of what they could encounter one day in order to get the hang of the charm. Hope to hear from you again soon.

Sincerely:

Prongs JR.

Harry blew on the parchment to make the ink dry quicker than it would on it's own. He was rather pleased, because if the letter did wind up in the wrong hands, no one would have a clue what the letter was concerning. Also, he liked how he mocked Dumbledore's position as the Head of the Order of the Phoenix and all of his other titles and he was sure that Remus would get a kick out of it too. Both Remus and himself were still grieving, one could only hope that this bit of humor would brighten Remus's mood as he started his journey to the camps where he would infiltrate the homes of as of yet undeclared werewolves where he would attempt to gain their favor and persuade them not to adopt Greybacks ideals, or join Voldemort.

"And Poppy, could you make sure that this letter gets to Remus Lupin in a timely manner? I suspect that you can get it to him faster than I could, what with the security measures that have been put into place regarding our mail coming and going from the castle at odd hours of the day."

"Of course, Harry."

Hdhdhd

A/N: A reviewer last chapter said that I have no idea about how abuse affects one, and I wanted to point out that they are misguided. Honestly, what I said in the last author's note was my own subconscious fears and me not fully taking the time to contemplate what Neville has said to Harry. This chappie marks a growth of both Harry's character's mindset and in some ways my own. What I originally meant to imply with his choice of words to Hermione was that for those few of us who overcome adversity, we are the ones who become child advocates, prosecutors, police officers, and social workers all with the same goal in mind, to help those who have gone through what we have and become productive members of society when they grow up; all to often the abused becomes the abuser, and if you never receive counciling, and the person in question is never put into prison, or you never gain closure, the chances increase that you'll continue the cycle. Hope this chapter clears up both why Harry told Hermione what he did, and why he won't become like Tom Riddle (though it's no thanks to Albus Dumbledork). Hermione has had a happy childhood, and has remained sheltered from the uglier truths of the world around her, and she probably is just naive enough about abused kids to think that like lifetime movies show all the time, the victim never becomes the aggressor. This obviously isn't the case. Hence Harry's fears. If the readers let things play out, they'll see that not everything in each chapter is as it appears. I broke this chapter up into three parts because of the shere size.

Okay, I am really really sorry about the delay in updates! (Yes, an apology again. It's like I do one every chapter.) So many things have been going on lately in real life. I actually really liked these three scenes, and I hope you do too.

I hope that Neville and Harry's conversation wasn't to confusing. He had a lot to say and I hope that it doesn't come across as to disjointed.

BTW I've as of yesterday edited every chapter and fixed some of the errors, please let me know if this chapter has formatting problems, so that I can fix them ASAP.


	12. Chapter 12: the DA part II

Diagnosis

A/N: Wow, I'm overwhelmed with all of your support, especially since it took me quite a while to upload the first part to the chapter.

Regrettably, this is more of an interlude than a proper chapter, but I realized that I had forgotten that even though the Dursleys are jerks, in the UK, a signature is required from a parent or guardian in order for a child to receive medical treatment for cancer if they're younger than…seventeen. I needed to fix that plot hole, and that's why this chapter has three parts instead of two. Hope that you guys find the consequences of this visit well worth the cost.

Sorry it's been a few weeks, but I'm hoping to get this fic moving quicker now, because I feel like it needs some extra oomph! Or something. I already have a long outline and a good idea where this fic is going to go, however, if you have any minor ideas that you'd like me to include, feel free to suggest them. After the next two chapters, things will start to pick up pace. Until now, things have been moving rather slowly, and it was necessary for the plot for the fic to do so, but we're reaching a point now where I can start moving things along nicely.

Disclaimer: If I were rich then why would I have put myself through the hellish summer history course instead of relaxing at home with my fame and wealth to keep me company?

Chapter 11: The DA Part II

Hdhdhd

Severus's POV

Severus Snape was furious. Striding from the apparition point, dressed in ridiculous Muggle clothes, he seethed. He did not want to be the one tasked with retrieving the Dursleys permission for Potter's cancer treatments. From what Severus knew about Petunia Dursley, she would be apathetic to her own nephew's plight. If a guardian's signature hadn't been mandatory for the healer to treat the brat, then he wouldn't be here now. He had better things to do, like finishing Potter's first potion. After what Severus learned from the disaster that was their Occlumency lessons last term, the Dursleys never even tried to make their nephew feel welcome, and now his fate lay in the hands of Petunia Dursleys. For without the signed consent forms, Healer Robertson would be putting his medical license at risk if he treated the Boy-Who-Lived. But Snape knew that the healer would elect to treat him anyways. The thing was, that for once, Severus wanted to do things on the up and up. He could feel the migraine starting in the back of his neck and quickly drank a headache potion pulled from the pocket of his suit jacket.

The house at number 4 looked exactly like the other houses on Privet Drive. Perfect lawn, perfect hedges, and a sparkling clean car sitting in the drive. The perfection almost made Severus's headache come back with a vengeance. Stupid Muggles, trying to beat nature into submission. The imposing man strode up to the door and knocked, firmly. A few moments later, a tall skinny woman opened the door.

"Hello, Petunia," Severus sneered.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Petunia nearly shrieked. Severus wanted to do a silencio on her.

"I'm here to get you to sign a piece of paper; that's not asking too much of you is it," asked Severus the sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

Petunia turned a ghastly shade of red. "I can't believe the audacity of that selfish ungrateful freak! Vernon and the boy had a deal a few years ago, if he would comport himself with grace when Marge was around, my husband would sign the permission form."

Severus Snape glowered at the woman who he had once considered a friend, they hadn't been as close as he and Lily, but what had happened to turn Petunia into this crass bitter creature before him? "Never refer to your own flesh and blood like that in my presence again, or the neighbors finding out that Harry's a wizard will be the least of your problems."

Petunia's face turned an even fiercer shade of red; Severus didn't think that that was possible.

"Don't say that word so loud. You'd do well to remember that you're on my front doorstep."

"Wizard, WIZARD wizard," hissed Severus vindictively, though he took care to temper the volume of his voice, he only wanted to frighten Petunia into letting him in the house, not to cause more work for the obliviating squad.

"What did you want me to sign exactly," capitulated Petunia, if only to make her unwelcome visitor get off her property as fast as possible. Vernon had told her that he'd be returning for his lunch break today, and he'd have a stroke if he saw this…abomination…on their property.

"Now that's more like it," said Severus with a raised eyebrow.

Cringing, but not daining to reply, Petunia opened the door wider, allowing him to enter. The house was spotlessly clean; the only thing that looked out of place was the rather large lock on the door to the cupboard under the stairs.

Nothing was out of place in number 4, in fact, it didn't look like anyone lived their. The kitchen counters practically sparkled.

Leading the way into the living room, Petunia sat down in the easy-boy recliner that was reserved only for Vernon…what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

The potions master sat down on the leather sofa, resisting the temptation to pull out his wand and place Petunia under the imperious curse, it'd speed things along nicely.

"I thought that the headmaster had reached an agreement with us, he'd pay us an allowance for the boy's care, we'd take him in, and we wouldn't be bothered with him during the school term."

"Professor Dumbledore didn't send me."

"Then get the ruddy hell out of my house! After you tell me why you are here in the first place."

"No," said Severus calmly. "And you ought to know that I'm not here for a social visit Petunia. I've got better things to do with my time than paying busybodies like yourself a social call."

"I said get the fuck out!"

Severus crossed his arms across his chest. "Does our former childhood friendship mean nothing to you now Petunia?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, you hung around with that freak and I hated you for that."

"Tisk, tisk, tisk, is dementia setting in so early?"

Petunia looked indignant.

"If I recall, you were the one always coming to our home to be patched up or reassured after Tobias got through with you; the Evan's household was a perfectly normal one, and FYI such horrid diseases as dementia don't run in our family," huffed Petunia.

Severus seethed. The Evans sisters and he had made a pact to never discuss how he had suffered at the hands of his father when they were sixteen, but did he really expect this thin woman who resembled a giraffe before him to honor such a simple thing as her word, after he had discovered her obvious neglect of her own nephew during the Occlumency lessons last term?

"Whilst I realize that you have done anything but what the Headmaster asked you to do when you took him in, I need you to sign these permission forms for him to get the medical care that he deserves. I wouldn't have bothered to ask you to do this if he had taken ill upon his seventeenth birthday, unfortunately, he doesn't turn seventeen until July."

"What's wrong with the freak," inquired Petunia glancing down at her wrist watch to check the time. "Can't your lot fix him? He's gotten injured at that ruddy school several times over the years, and you've never bothered us before, so why are you here now?"

Severus took in a deep breath to collect himself before stating, "The wizarding world can't fix everything. Even we have to rely on the Muggle professionals occasionally."

"My soap is about to come on, so just give me the paperwork. I'll sign whatever you like."

"Oh give me a break Tunie," said Severus using her childhood nick-name to ruffle her feathers a bit. "when we were younger, you always wanted a family of your own with several children to care for, but once you met that fat oath, I guess all of your hopes and dreams went up in smoke eh."

"I-I wanted several children of my own, not one natural son and a freak," said Petunia the distane for Potter clear in her voice.

"It's not like we asked you to treat your nephew like a prince, all we asked of you is to provide him a roof over his head, love and affection, and that you provide him with adequate nutrition. And the only one of these terms you fulfilled was giving him a roof over his head. You aren't worthy to be called a good mother in fact."

Apparently that struck a nerve, because Petunia spat, "I tried to love him, but every time I tried to hold him, he used his freakishness on me. One day, I saw myself spending more time reading to him and holding him than my own son; at this point, I realized that we had to squash it out of him. Eventually I gave up on him, and used my maternal instincts to care for my son Dudley."

"And it's quite clear how much damage you've done to his psyche."

"What do you mean," stuttered Petunia. "Dudders gets all of the sweets, toys, and clothes his little heart desires."

"That's exactly my point," said Severus. "All children are different. James Potter's son doesn't ask for much as much, as I'm loathed to admit it; I have made the mistake of treating him like a carbon copy of his father, and he's willing to put the past aside and is going to continue to take private lessons again this term with me. He's a far sight more forgiving to those who have wronged him than I could ever aspire to be." It had been a great blow to his pride to admit this to Petunia, but in Severus's defense, he had hoped that her attitude towards Potter might change, but he was destined to be disappointed.

"Some children need a firm hand and a strict upbringing in order to grow up well-adjusted," said Petunia. "Dudley is a sensitive boy, and the freak is more jaded. That's why I didn't care for him as much as Dudley."

"Yeah right," snorted Severus. "Your boy is morbidly obese, if all of the photographs on the walls are anything to go by. I'm only speculating here, but if you've coddled him like I suspect you have, then he's turned into an arrogant bully. If Dudley had even an ounce of magical blood running through his vanes, he'd be removed from your care at once!"

"How dare you tell me how to raise my own son."

"If you feel so strongly about this, then I can arrange for wizarding family services to pay you and your husband a visit, and we can let them decide. Judging by the lock on that cupboard door, I don't think that that's what you want."

Giving in, if only because she felt that she had little choice, Petunia said,"Okay, I'll sign the papers, provided that you promise me one thing. If Potter is as ill as you're implying, then I don't want him to be around my DinkyDiddicoms. He might be contagious. Besides, Vernon will never allow him to stay here laid up in bed, lazing about all day; he's only managed to find sanctuary here so far, because he has been able to earn his keep. He's not to return to my house over the summer."

"Cancer isn't contagious Petunia."

The woman before the potions master blanched.

"H-he's g-got c-cancer?"

"Yes. Specifically he's got a mass in his brain."

"Is he going to die young like Lily did," asked Petunia in shock. Apparently, whilst she didn't care one iota what became of her nephew, even Petunia felt some empathy upon hearing that someone so young could die before they really got a chance to truly live life to the fullest.

"Your nephew's brain tumor is now symptomatic, and his physician is concerned that the cancer is stage III or IV. Unfortunately in his case, his magic attempted to protect him and keep his body as healthy for as long as possible. I'm afraid it would've been better if his magic had done nothing. Maybe then I would not have to be here getting your permission to enroll him in a clinical trial."

"Isn't chemotherapy an option?"

"Yes, but it has been known to cause witches and wizards to become squibs." Severus couldn't fathom why he was sitting here explaining this to Petunia, who had only moments ago begrudged the BWL's very existence.

"And what prey tale is wrong with someone who can't use magic?"

"For someone like Potter, it could very well mean the difference between life and death. The man who killed Lilly would snap him up in an instant and off him, only after torturing him until he begged for death."

"He would never beg for anything, no matter how much he was put through," said Petunia. "Vernon saw to that."

If Severus hadn't planned on ensuring that the golden boy of Gryffindor never had to return to this place that he had never called home, despite Albus's insistance to the contrary, he was determined now. No child deserves to be abused, no matter how arrogant they are!

"Well fortunately for the prat, his doctor isn't willing to risk it. He's prescribed radiation treatments, and potions that react much like Muggle chemotherapy for the boy. The potions have to be classified as clinical trials due to the need to keep our world a secret from some of his doctors that don't know about our world," said Severus, reaching into the briefcase that he had brought along to carry the paperwork. "You need to sign these forms in triplicate. We need permission to run any necessary tests on the boy, consent is needed for his treatment plan and upon his request, I need you to sign over his medical proxy to me for his own protection. I had been truly puzzled when the 'nurse' at Hogwarts told me this, but after coming here today, I now understand completely why he doesn't trust you to make medical decisions on his be hath."

Severus regretted that Petunia wasn't a squibb, because he thought that after all she had witnessed her nephew go through, she deserved the sting to her dignity that using a blood quill would cause. He handed her a fountain pin instead.

After she had finished reading the papers and signing them, Petunia said, "He's going to need a lot of medical care and attention that I can't afford to give him over the summer; he is no longer welcome in my home." Albus was going to freak when he heard that Petunia had renounced the boy, because it meant that the blood wards were null and void now. For it was blatantly obvious that Potter had never called this place home, now that his aunt had renounced the boy, it wouldn't be safe for him to return here next summer.

During the disaster that was their Occlumency lessons last year, Severus had been privy to Potter's most secret thoughts, memories, and the emotions that accompanied them. Whilst Petunia Dursley never raised a hand to the boy, she didn't stand up to her husband when he gave the boy a good thwack or two. Potter's aunt had once been a decent person, now the potions master was a shamed that he had ever gotten along with her.

Wanting to make sure that the slender woman before him realized the significance of her actions, Severus said, "For more than fourteen years, your nephew has been safe from the dark lord and his followers, because of the blood protection, and as long as he returned to this residence once a year, that was sufficient for his, and your protection. However, you've made it clear that the boy is no longer welcome in your household, and I think it's quite safe to say that Potter hasn't called this hellhole his home since he was old enough to know better. As a direct result of your actions, the wards that have cloaked your home from the eyes of those who wish the boy ill-will have fallen. And I'd be remiss not to warn you that anyone can get to your family now. If you don't pack up all of your possessions and leave Privet Drive post haste, then you might not live to see tomorrow. If I were you, I would start packing before your son and that thing you call your husband gets home. Relocating to another country, say Ireland for instance would be a wise plan. If you value your life, then I wouldn't return to Surry until the dark lord is defeated."

"But Vernon's work…"

"Honestly woman, how daft are you? He won't have to worry about finding work at another drill company if he's dead."

"He'll never agree to leave Britain. What am I going to do Severus," pleaded Petunia.

With a sneer Severus retorted, "That's not my problem."

In a rare show of kindness, Petunia inquired, "You'll do everything that you can to ensure that Lily's spawn lives to kill that man who murdered my sister?"

"Why Petunia, I didn't know you cared one way or the other."

"I don't," snapped Petunia defensively. "But you said that we can't return home until that abomination is dead, so…"

Petunia Dursley picked up the papers that Severus had given to her only moments ago, and handed them to him saying, "Good luck. And tell my nephew that he can relax now, and that he'll never be troubled by our family again."

Pulling out his wand from a pocket, Severus obliviated Petunia of all relevant information regarding her nephew's health, just in case she met any rogue death eaters on her way out of England. He replaced that section of memory with a false one where he warned her not to lay a hand on the brat ostentatiously on the orders of the Headmaster himself.

Such subterfuge was necessary to deflect any suspicion of his true motives from his other master, because the spy wasn't about to betray Potter's confidence and let either Albus or the dark lord get wind that the Chosen One had a brain tumor.

"Accio Harry's belongings."

Severus didn't want Petunia to take any of the boy's possessions with her, and thought it prudent to retrieve anything that was rightfully his before Petunia returned to her senses.

Glancing at the busybody in front of him, Severus saw that the glassy look in her eyes was fading by the second. He had acted just in the nick of time.

He watched in shock as the lock fell away from the cupboard with a loud clang, and the door burst open.

A stained and ratty old baby blanket along with several pieces of paper flew out towards Severus.

He deftly caught the items, and was astonished to find that one of the childishly scribbled drawings had 'Harry's room' written proudly at the top. So Potter hadn't just been trying to garner sympathy from him, when he had shown his professor memories of being locked in a tiny cupboard.

Why hadn't Minerva noticed the significance of the address that stamped the multitude of envelopes that Hogwarts had sent to number 4?

Severus would never know, because he wasn't about to ask her. He couldn't live with the knowledge if she admitted that she had told Albus and he had forbid her to take the proper action.

The strict man had no time to ponder this troubling notion, because his attention was once more redirected towards the general vicinity of the staircase, as he heard a ruckus from upstairs.

Severus leapt aside as a heavy oak trunk came crashing down the stairs from the attic above.

His curiosity was piqued. Why would a trunk that resembled one that he had given to Lily on her seventeenth birthday be stored in the attic instead of in the brat's dormitory room, or if not their, then his bedroom? He assumed that Petunia had moved him into a room after the flurry of letters, if only out of fear that the wizards would come bursting into her life and find out how little she had cared for her own flesh and blood.

He shrank the trunk to pocket-size and stowed it away in his pocket to give to Potter at a later date.

Scanning the room hurriedly once more to check that nothing of any value to Potter was still making its way through the house, Severus turned on his heel and left the spotless house of a woman whom he had once been willing to call friend.

The potions master had half a mind to betray the wearabouts of Petunia to the dark lord in retribution for what she had put Lily's only son through, but decided that it wasn't worth the risk to his freedom if anyone found out. Albus Dumbledre had ensured his liberation despite his crimes during the first war, but Severus could no longer count on the leader of the light to do so again. After all, he had a potion to finish; it had been under a stasis charm for longer than he would have liked already.

Hdhdhd

A/N: Happy birthday Alex, though I doubt you'll ever read this.

Some of you might wonder why Severus obliviated her and dared use magic in a muggle dwelling, but I thought it was very in character for him. Severus doesn't strike me as a man who concerns himself with something as trivial as legalities. I hope that you don't find his change of attitude towards Harry to have happened to rapidly. In an earlier chapter Poppy did persuade Harry not to write the potions master off as someone who is incapable of change.

The next part will be out in two weeks at the latest.


	13. Chapter 13: 11 part III the DA

Diagnosis

A/N: I apologize to everyone that I promised an update to yesterday. I spent four hours helping a friend study for a major exam that's today. Lol I felt like Hermione trying to prepare Ron for his OWL's. It was really exhausting, and I really didn't feel like writing after all of that. The revision for his test yesterday took twice as long because in order for me to help him, he had to read each practice question to me. *sighs* I'll be doing the same thing tomorrow, only this time he'll be studying math. I'm soooooo looking forward to that (as much as Severus enjoys teaching dunderheaded Gryffindors). Math isn't my thing, but my friend struggles with it more than I, so I guess I'll muddle my way through yet another practice exam tomorrow. Wish him luck. Lol I'd hate for all of my hard work to be for not.

Have any of you seen Shark-nado? My family and I were bored on the first Thursday night that it aired, and we accidentally came across the cheesy and utterly ridiculous b-rated movie. I never guessed that it'd go viral the next day…

I had intended to update on my 22nd b-day, July 24th, but decided that since I've now owned Faith for a year, and considering that today holds a great deal of significance to me, i.e. a few years ago, something happened to make me decide to become a social worker, and that's a good thing. So here's this long celebratory chappie. Thanks for your patience.

As a reward for your continual support, I added the first scene to the chapter, where both you and Severus are held in suspense for a time…

Wow, I'm in shock, if I hadn't had the foresight to break this massive chapter into three parts, it would have surpassed 20,000 words. That would have been to long of a chapter for my tastes. Which way would you guys rather, the current length, which averages around 10,000 words, or would you prefer longer chapters than that? I personally grow bored of reading when the chapters of a story are consistently at 20,000 words, but after all, I write this so that my readers can enjoy the fruits of my labor, so I'll leave the ultimate decision to you. Thanks for all of the lovely reviews.

I think that a few words don't have spaces etween each other. Please let me know if it's to distracting, and I'll go back and fix it.

Disclaimer: All I got was this lousy t-shirt.

Chapter 11: The DA Part III

Hdhdhd

Severus's POV

The stern Head of Slytherin sat the cauldron of silver down on the work station where he had worked on Potter's other potion earlier in the day. With the flick of the wand he cleaned the surface of all residue that might still linger on the table. Potions that were used to fight cancer were notorious for having volatile reactions if they came into contact with one another.

Severus fought back a groan as he thought about how Draco, his godson, would react if he knew that the potions master bought and used golden or silver cauldrons on a regular basis; the boy had whined and begged him to allow him to buy one during their trip into Diagon Alley during the Slytherin's first year. He had insisted that Malfoys only purchase the finest of supplies for their first year at Hogwarts. No doubt, this mindset had been a product of Lucius's parenting skills – or the lack thereof. And he had told the boy the truth, that gold and silver made cauldrons aren't practical for a Hogwarts student's needs; they're to be used only if you're brewing a complex potion, and Potter's potions regimen was just that, ridiculously complex.

Lighting a fire under the cauldron, Severus began to prepare his ingredients; the cauldron would need a few minutes to reach the proper temperature for the shrivelfiggs to be added.

Time and space became unimportant as the potions master lost himself in his craft.

He stirred, chopped, diced, and crushed ingredients flawlessly. Each move looked like it had been carefully choreographed.

Now came the most volatile stage of the potion, Severus reached for the Kartin weed and dropped a pinch of it into the orange colored potion. It bubbled ominously. Severus was not put off by this, as he knew that undertaking this task of brewing Potter's damnable potions was really only safe for someone of his caliber, the potions were extremely tricky to brew and slightly dangerous as well.

Picking up the as yet unused crystal stirring rod, he stirred the potion in a counter-clockwise figure eight pattern 3 times then twice clockwise before adding the Boomslang skin to the mix.

A wave of heat and smoke rose from the cauldron; Severus knew that he had only seconds to add in the dittany before the entire cauldron exploded right in his face. Kartin weed and Boomslang skin have a negative reaction to each other, and if done in time, the dittany neutralizes the base.

He opened the jar of dittany just in time and hurriedly put a tablespoon of dittany into the cauldron, waiting with baited breath for it to melt from it's creamy state into a liquid that could then be absorbed into the potion.

Just as he was about to put the potion under a stasis charm, a knock came at the door.

'For the name of Salazar, why does he pick now to interrupt me!'

"Come in," said Severus. He didn't want to raise the Headmaster's suspicions if he didn't have too.

The door slowly opened and the Headmaster entered the spy's private potions lab.

"What can I do for you," inquired Severus, not at all in the mood to put up with the Leader of the Light's whoffling ways.

"Are you busy," asked Dumbledore who sported the most hideous robes that Severus had ever seen him ware to date. They were a lurid shade of purple, and had silver snitches zooming around on them.

Severus glanced away from them before he could become nauseated from the horrid clash of colors and the dizzying dance of the snitch.

"How is your brewing coming along," asked the Headmaster vaguely. A spike of fear ran through the potions master at his words. He couldn't know just what he was brewing could he?

Severus wasn't about to inquire any further into his mening, just in case he was fishing for information. He wasn't about to risk breaking the Unbreakable Vow.

"Have you had any success with the potions experiment that I asked you to undertake?"

"As I'm sure someone of your intellect already knows, it's a delicate process that will take months to complete," aavaided Severus.

Albus sighed resignedly. "Okay. It's just that Harry keeps inquiring about my hand, and I have no intentions of telling him about the whole picture just yet. The hand grows worse and worse every day. I have a feeling that our original timeframe was grossly overestimated…I still have quite a lot to accomplish before my duty is done."

"I will start working on a new formula that will hopefully be stronger than what I gave you last week. Have you had any side-effects besides those that I warned you about?"

"No, my boy."

Severus clenched his teeth. He wasn't anyone's 'boy, especially Albus's!

He let out a sigh of relief, because he was sure that the Headmaster would be in a far fowler mood than he was if he had found out about the fallen wards on number 4.

"I should have another potion prepared for you to try out on Wednesday," placated Severus.

"Take all the time you need. I'd rather the potion be more successful than done quickly."

"As you wish," sneered Severus.

And with that, the Headmaster walked out of the lab. Sevrus cast the stasis charm, because it would take him at least another day before he could procure the next ingredient and it's base.

He was grateful that Robertson had owled him the list of ingredients around thirty minutes ago, because the potions master wanted to have this potion ready to give Potter on Monday. Fortunately for the Prat-who-lived, the other potion for his magical core would be done and ready for him to take tomorrow.

Hdhdhd

Draco's POV

"Hey Pans," said Draco quietly as he and his usual entourage of friends lounged around on the comfortable but very austentious looking furniture in the Slytherin common room on a bright and sunny fall morning.

"Haven't I told you time and time again not to call me that," hissed Pansy her cheeks stained Weasley red at the ridiculous and childish nickname.

"Yeah," said Draco flippantly. "But haven't I also forbid you to call me that incessant nickname of which you do?"

"I would never, Dray," said Pansy in a falsely sweet voice.

"You just bloody well did," retorted Draco indignantly. "A pureblood like yourself should comport oneself with more grace, maturity, dignity, and finesse than you do." Draco's hurtful words stung Pansy like nothing he had ever said before.

She bit her lip, holding back the tears that prickled her eyelids. It had been beaten into her at a young age that pureblood ladies never cry in front of others. Especially if such emotional temper tantrums were caused by a thoughtless and hurtful action or the words of friend.

"What did you want," asked Pansy hotly.

"To know if you are planning on attending Potter's defense club today in the great hall or not. I know that you're aware that he's holding court their today, with all of his little admirers, since you were sitting near him and that firsty he came to sit with the other evening at dinner."

"What is it to you? I assume that you won't be attending, given that you're still under your daddy's thumb now that the Ministry so graciously pardoned him after a good amount of gold changed hands."

Blaise and Millie were unusually quiet this morning.

"I won't be attending this meeting, because Daphne as so kindly agreed to go to the first meeting in my stead. Since it's the first meeting since we played a part in breaking up the illegal club last year, I doubt that any of his friends will be glad to see me so soon. Potter is probably going to spend most of the meeting explaining things to the newcomers anyways."

"Do you reckon that I ought to go," inquired Pansy. "Because I was their with you in Umbridge's office that night when Potter's little allies fought back and got the upper hand on us. I wonder if he's going to recount what happened…you know for the club to review the duel that ensued…strictly for educational purposes of course."

"I doubt that Granger will let him humiliate anyone their who was directly involved anyways. Her moral compass is to accurate enough for her to allow such shenanigans to go on; she'll see right through either his or Weasley's attempts to damage our reputations any further than they already are, after we participated in the Inquisitor's squad."

Both Pansy and Millie were utterly shocked at Draco's willing admittance that he was in the wrong, even just a little bit. It was very uncharacteristic of him to do so. Maybe their friend really had begun to change for the better.

Both girls' contemplations were rudely interrupted when Daphne Greengrass walked down the girls staircase; the Slytherin girl, who was dubbed the ice queen of Slytherin strode down the stairs with a heir of grace about her.

"What has you lot up so early on a Saturday morning," asked Daphne even though she had her suspicions that they might be going the same place she was.

"We're just having an intelligent four-way conversation of which you weren't invited to join," said Millicent coolly. In truth, she had been silent until this point, but it was none of Greengrass's business regardless.

"Fine. Be that way," replied Daphne coolly. "But Draco, Astoria was sorely disappointed the other day when you blew her off."

"Did she ever stop to think that I did so because I was looking out for the both of our interests?"

"You prat. She only wanted help with ancient runes. I don't like what you're insinuating about my little sister Malfoy. Your father already has plans for your betrothed does he not?"

"Yes," spluttered Draco furiously. "But I will never acquiesce to his demands. No offense Pansy, but I really don't like you that way."

A sense of relief flooded Pansy's body. For so long, she had been worried that Draco might out of some family obligation want to marry her as a trophy wife and screw men on the down low.

"But you do realize what that'll in tale Draco," said Pansy kindly. "Your father will probably disown you if he finds out."

"Just between the five of us, I don't care one iota what Lucius cares, or doesn't, concerning me. He's dictated my life for too long already."

"Interesting…" said Daphne.

"Good for you," said Pansy in a chipper voice. "So does that mean that you won't be taking the mark over Christmas hols?"

"I-I honestly don't know yet..." Draco said trailing off deliberately, because lately he had been contemplating perhaps becoming a spy for the light side, or just remaining neutral in the war. He knew that if he didn't make up his mind soon, then he'd have blood on his hands come December and the Christmas hols, because Lucius had made it quite clear before he was carted off to Azkaban that he would take the mark by then, willingly or unwillingly. And he had heard from a very reliable source that the initiation process involved you murdering someone or seriously injuring them. He could do it, if such heinous acts were to help save the lives of his friends, but he could no longer honestly say that he would join the dark lord just because he believed in his twisted ideology's anymore.

"Oi Draco," said Millie snapping her fingers in front of his face to gain his attention once more. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, never better," said Draco evasively.

"Well, if there's one thing I know for sure," said Daphne, feeling safe to reveal this to these people before her because, one of them she knew was her best friend and had no intentions of ratting her out for her opinion, and the other, someone who she could threaten into keeping his mouth shut if necessary. "I don't have any intentions of joining the dark lord."

"So then you'll be fighting on Dumbledore's side eh," said Blaise who had never pretended that he was going to remain anything but neutral in this war.

"I never said that. The man has talked about the inequality of the wizarding world, but has of yet not done anything about it. He is a member of the Wizengamot and therefore has the power to do something about it. And he speaks of uniting the houses but does nothing about it. He treats us Slytherins like we're somehow worth less because we're not Gryffindors," stated Daphne confidently, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I was more referring to a third option, if you catch my drift…"

"True," agreed Draco. "This has all been interesting, but I've got somewhere to be."

"It's not time…" Pansy broke off, not finishing her sentence because White and her friends came down the girls' staircase to socialize before they went to Potter's club. She had only a scant minute to lift the privacy spell that she had cast earlier for good measure. Of course, the other participants in their intriguing conversation had no idea that she had cast a privacy spell in the first place, so they were understandably puzzled as to her silence upon seeing a few firstys coming down the stairs.

"Good morning," said Holly cheerfully. Nothing could cause her good mood to shift because she was finally going to learn some spells so that she could defend herself. And Potter had even told her that he might teach her a few things about healing himself…

"Good morning," said Pansy to the first year girl kindly.

"I've got to meet someone to get some things worked out," said Draco brushing off the concerned hand that Pansy had placed on his shoulder. He smiled a ruthful smile, because Potter had no idea that he was going to be ambushed in the great hall by his opponent. Draco needed to talk to him, and this was the only way he could come up with that his friends wouldn't find out about later and criticize him mercilessly incessantly.

Draco made it through the corridors and to the great hall in record time, and fortunately he had managed to avoid awkward questions from the biggest gossips of Hogwarts-the portraits.

Pushing open the doors and striding into the room with an air of confidence about him, Draco said, "Potter, I see that everything is in order for your meeting."

Harry spun around with a look of startled surprise on his face.

"Why are you here?"

"Because I wanted to talk to you ALONE."

"About what Malfoy? I have better things to be doing in the few minutes before my adoring fans get here." Draco didn't expect the bitterness in Potter's voice at the mentioning of his fan girls. He thought that Potter liked all of the attention from them…but maybe he detested their presence too.

"I just wanted to extend my humble apology for my part in everything last year. Because of my actions, you lost a man you evidently cared for-if your rushing across half of England wasn't proof enough. I'm really sorry. My friends and I regret being a part of Umbitch's little club of snitches."

"Apology accepted," said Harry tersely.

"But I can't accept your apology to my friends, as they deserve to hear it from your own lips."

Draco looked around the room nervously. He wanted to get this done and over with, because he wasn't entirely sure if he could get up the nerve to do this all again another time.

Fortunately for Draco's sake, Ron and Hermione came bursting through the doors of the great hall at that very moment.

"What's he doing here," asked Ron abruptly.

"He has something to say to you, don't you Malfoy,"asked Harry curtly.

"Yes. Ronald Weasley, youngest son of the Weasley household," he paused to collect his thoughts before continuing. Harry wondered what kind of bizarre ritual Malfoy was conducting with his friend. Obviously Ron had some idea of what was going on, because he made no attempt to interrupt the blond as he usually would. "I ask for your forgiveness for my actions last term. Though I can make no restitution for the actions of any member of the Malfoy family except my own. Will you accept my sincerest apologies for the grievances that my actions and those of those whom I call friend?"

Grudgingly Ron said, "Yes, Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, I except your apology and…" Ron paused fighting back the urge to ask for some ridiculous demand in restitution, because he knew that if he didn't, Harry would have his guts for garters. He had already alienated Hermione to some extent by entering into a relationship with Lavender, he had no desire to make matters worse by being childish. "I require no restitution of you. You are forever absolved of your actions to my friend Harry Potter, which caused the death of someone whom he cared greatly for."

Now that the formal dance that Ron and Draco seemed to be conducting was over, Harry for the umpteenth time that morning scratched at his left forearm which was covered by the sleeve of his robe.

Merlin it itched!

But surely it's nothing…after all, the redness that I got on my forehead after I went to hospital that time went away a few days later…if I can just put it off until it goes away, then there's nothing to worry about.

Draco turned to Granger looking as if he wished he were anywhere else.

"I'm sorry for all of the grief I've caused you over the years Granger. You didn't deserve that backfired spell in fourth year, and you didn't deserve being sent into the Forbidden Forest with that old hag."

"I forgive you," said Hermione, figuring that Malfoy had already suffered enough blows to his pride for one day. "All I ask is that you refrain from such behavior to my friends and I ever again."

"Alright," said Draco coolly. "I'd best be going. People to see…places to go and all of that."

Harry very much doubted that, since he suspected that some of his friends might be coming to the great hall shortly, but he didn't contradict the blond.

hdhdhd

Harry's POV

Never had I thought I would see the day Draco Malfoy, who was known for his pride, apologize to me, but well. Here it was. Granted, he did it rather stiffly, but not only did he manage to keep his trademark sneer and any other nasty expression he might have picked up off his face, he also extended an apology to Ron and Hermione. Fancy that! It couldn't change the past, of course, but it was still good to know that he didn't still feel that what he did was right. It made a nice change, and secretly, I hoped it would last.

And before Harry knew it, the first meeting was starting, Harry put Hermione and Neville in charge of the returning members, while he had a talk with the new ones. Ordinarily, Harry would've asked Ron to work with Hermione to supervise the returning members, since the duo normally made a perfect team, but now that Ron had been acting in a manner that hurt Hermione of late, he didn't dare risk Ron causing a scene, especially if the cause for said hurt feelings, Lavender Brown was in attendance, which, of course, she was.

"For simplicity's sake, we're going to call you lot 'First Year D.A.' and the other group 'Second Year D.A.,' no matter what year you are at Hogwarts," Harry began. "If you progress quickly or your skills are especially good, we'll move you up to the Second Year group. Those in the Second Year group – are you listening over there – who are still having trouble with the lower level spells will come over to this group until your skills improve. That's no reflection on your abilities or intelligence or anything like that. Some people just learn at different speeds, and it's easier for everyone if you're grouped according to your skill level. You will be working with partners, practicing whatever spells we're working on. You will stop when you hear a whistle blown. Usually when I do that, it's because things are getting out of hand, or people are making mistakes, or I see something that needs to be improved before we go further. I will have some of the Second Year D.A. members helping to supervise you so I can teach both groups. I'll teach you a skill, or review it if it's a spell you should already know, and then I'll turn you over to other people who will watch you work."

He studied the group thoughtfully for a moment. There were some rebellious looks among them already, as well as many whose faces showed that they weren't taking this meeting seriously. "These helpers have the same authority I do, so don't give them a hard time. They can hex you into next week if you cheek them," he said with a grin, teasing them. A shocked silence was followed by nervous laughter. "What we do in D.A. is fun, and I want you to enjoy it. But it's also deadly serious. We are at war, and the skills you learn here will help you if you find yourself in danger."

He glanced around the group, now seeing some eager faces, some full of nervous anticipation, and some just plain scared. "Don't be afraid – we won't let anyone get seriously hurt. These are exercises, but they do work in the real world. I've been there, and so have the people who will be supervising you. We know these spells work in real combat." The gathered students looked awe-struck. A tentative hand went up. "Yes?" Harry said, pointing to the tiny first-year student with her hand in the air.

"Mr. Potter, sir?" she said timidly, her blond curls bouncing as she trembled with nerves.

Harry laughed. "I'm Harry, just Harry. I'm a student like you. No 'Mr.' anybody here, unless Professor Flitwick gets the opportunity to join us sometime. What's your question?"

"Erm. . .when you said 'combat,' what did you mean? I mean, when you said you and these other people have been in combat?" When she finished speaking, she put her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, apparently unnerved by her boldness.

"What's your name?" Harry asked kindly, squatting to get on her eye-level.

"Amanda. Amanda O'Reilly," she answered with a quiver in her voice.

"Nice to meet you, Amanda. Let's all sit down, shall we? I don't know about you, but I've already had a long day and it's barely begun," Harry began as he sat cross-legged on the floor. "Come on, gather round," he invited. Once the First Year D.A. students were settled, he looked at Amanda. "What I meant by combat was actual face-to-face fighting with Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort." At the collective gasp resulting from his saying Voldemort's name, he looked around at the group sternly. "Professor Dumbledore says 'fear of the name only increases the fear of the thing itself.' 'Voldemort' is just a name, like 'Potter' or 'Weasley' or 'O'Reilly.' Don't be afraid to say Lord Voldemort's name, and don't cringe and gasp or be frightened when you hear it. Reactions like that give him more power over you than he already has. The simple truth is, Lord Voldemort is the enemy. Get used to it."

A young girl in the front row raised her hand tentatively.

"Yes? What's your name?" Harry asked.

"Margaret Boyle. Hi, Harry!" she said with a giggle and a small wave.

"Hi," he answered, wondering what she had on her mind. "Go on."

"Well..." she began breathlessly, then said in a rush, "I've got a copy of the Rise and fall of the Dark Arts, and it mentions what happened that night when you-know-who was vanished for a time. Will you sign the book cover?" Her comment stirred choruses of "Me, too!" "Sign mine, will you?" and similar calls from the new D.A. students, as well as giggles and much avid whispering among the girls who belonged to that fan club that Hermione and Neville had warned him about, Neville in person, and Hermione via a letter. The Second Year D.A. students paused in what they were doing and looked at the new group, chuckling. They knew Harry well enough by now to know what his answer would be.

Harry was blushing furiously. "Erm...no, no autographs, sorry. I don't do that. I'm just Harry. That's all. And for the record, if you're going to talk about Lord Voldemort during these meetings, at least try to say the coward's name, will you."

Seemingly unphased by Harry's request for them to all grow a pare and stop calling him by anything other than Lord Voldemort; the crowd continued to attempt to persuade him to give autographs.

"No, you're famous!" "Please, Harry!" the crowd encouraged him.

"No!" Harry's temper was rising dangerously; it was almost at the level that it had been when he blew up his aunt in third year. He took some deep breaths and calmed himself. "Look. I'm flattered and all that, but we're here for a serious reason." Glancing around at the group, he began to wonder. He took a deep breath and said, "OK, how many of you are here to learn how to fight Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort?"

A shudder went through the gathering, and very few hands were raised. Harry's temper ebbed a bit when he noticed that three young Slytherin first years, Holly and her two female friends, were amongst those who raised their hands with those who knew him best; stating with all of the rest that they were their to learn, not to eye him up like a piece of meat.

"And how many of you are here, because I'm the one leading it?" he asked. Nearly every hand shot up. Harry slumped, shook his head, scratched his arm yet again, and sighed. This wasn't the right attitude for them to have, not at all. "Look, you lot," he replied angrily. "We're here because we're at war and we need to get better at defending ourselves. If you're just here to see Harry Potter, you can leave right now. I will be happy to teach you all I can to help prepare you for the war, but I will not give out autographs, interviews, hugs, kisses, or anything else! Those of you who are here for the wrong reasons can leave right bloody now!"

He waited, but no one moved a muscle. Even the girls who he knew were avid members of the fan club who he suspected had spent the last several weeks openly lusting after him seemed to be holding their breath. Silence reigned for a while, then a boy's hand wavered uncertainly in the air. "Yes?" Harry asked, stifling his anger the best he could. "What's your name?"

"Bill Miller," the boy answered timidly. "Second year, Ravenclaw."

"Is your question about defensive spells and what we're doing here, or not?" Harry snapped. Unable to hold his curiosity at bay any longer in spite of his general anger at the lot who were more concerned about the boy-who-lived than actually surviving this war, Harry continued. "Are you by chance related to an Anthony? He's in third year."

"About what we're doing here," the boy said hesitantly, quailing in the face of Harry's temper. "And as a matter of fact, I am, he's my stepbrother. How do you know him?"

Harry sat back, relaxed a bit and grinned at the boy. "Great! Nice to meet you, Bill. What's your question?"

"You said face-to-face combat with D-d-d-Death Eaters and L-l-l-Lord V-v-v-. . . ." He couldn't go on.

"Yep. That's 'Voldemort.' Learn to say it. And your question?"

"How could any of you fight them and survive," the boy responded nervously.

"That's what we're here to learn!" Harry said encouragingly. "OK, I imagine you want proof." He sighed and looked over at Hermione, who was busy correcting the wand work of one of the returning D.A. members. "Hermione, have you been listening?"

"Yes," she said, turning to him.

"I could use some ideas here. I don't want to spend the entire time telling stories."

"Then ask what they've heard and answer those questions. That should lead you to tell the stories they want to hear."

"OK," Harry said, sighing. "You lot have to realize, it's not fun for me to relive any of these things. I had loads of help..."

"Not on the first task where you faced that Hungarian Horntail!" piped up one voice from the older D.A. group.

"Not in loads of other cases, Harry," someone else called. "Get on with it and just tell them what happened!" There was general laughter in the Second Year group at this statement.

Harry blushed, then shrugged and chuckled. "I can see they aren't going to give me any peace. Tell me what you've heard and that will give me a starting point." The usual questions about the Philosopher's Stone, the Basilisk and his Patronus came up, and Harry explained those. Then someone asked about Cedric Diggory's death and Harry told them about seeing Voldemort return and engrossed them in the difficult telling of the duel between the darkest lord ever to reign and the boy-who-lived, glossing over the gritty details about the Cruciatus curse being used on him repeatedly. Telling that story was still quite hard for Harry, but he could see that they needed to hear it from him, despite having read about it in the paper and in magazines.

"All of those things are amazing, Harry, but they were all you. You said some of the D.A. has also fought . . . erm. . .L-lord V-V-V-Voldemort," Holly White spoke up bravely.

"No, I said they fought Death Eaters. None of them faced Voldemort. That was me, the other times. Again, I had help. Dumbledore fought him last year and saved my life." He told them about the battle with the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries and took that opportunity to stand up and call over Ron, Luna and Ginny. "This is Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Ron Weasley. They'll be supervising your work while I'm working with the Second Years. They, Neville and Hermione and I were the ones involved in that battle with the Death Eaters last term."

"Some of us fared better than others in that one," Ron commented, raising an eyebrow and smiling at Harry.

"Some of us, me included, need to learn to curb our curiosity," Harry retorted with a rueful laugh. He and Ron grinned at each other over the heads of the students between them. Harry's insatiable curiosity had led him to actually want the dreams that drew him into and guided him through the Department of Mysteries debacle in the first place, and Ron's had led him to summon a brain to him which tangled him up in thought threads and kept him in the hospital wing for a while after everything was over. Harry turned to his listeners again. "Neville, would you give them a wave, so that the First Year D.A. members know who you are? Neville, here, is living proof that you need to use a wand that chose you, if at all possible, not a hand-me-down wand. He used his dad's wand until it was broken in that battle last year. With his new wand, his spell work is fantastic. His dad's wand worked fine for his dad. It just never worked as well for him. Ron Weasley had the same situation. He used one of his brothers' wands for a while, but then it broke. Since he got his own, his spell work has improved tremendously. So if you're using a wand that didn't choose you and your spell work isn't what it should be, consider getting a new wand if it's at all possible. A new wand might make a huge difference for you, as it's done for Neville and Ron. That new wand working properly for you may mean the difference between life and death."

There was a stunned silence among the First Years, then one of the younger students raised a nervous hand.

"Yes? What's your name?" Harry said.

"Sean Freeman," the boy responded. "So you're saying we really can't do magic with other wands than the one that chose us?"

"I'm saying the wand that chose you will always work best for you. But once you're good at the spells, you can work them with any wand, if you exert enough energy to force the spell through an unfamiliar wand. Here, Ginny, let me borrow yours a sec," Harry said, reaching out for her wand. "OK, I'll do a little demonstration. This is my own wand," he said, holding his wand in his right hand, high enough for everyone to see. "Watch." He pointed the wand at Ginny and said "Wingardium Leviosa." Ginny rose several feet above the floor, giggling while floating above them. "Ginny, are you OK up there?"

"Yes."

"OK if I play around a bit?" Harry said with a crooked grin.

"I trust you, Harry," she said with a warm smile.

Harry turned to the gathered students. "I wouldn't do this with someone who isn't a good flyer. It might make them sick. Ginny's a terrific flyer, so it shouldn't bother her." With that, he used his wand to fly her around the room, even having her turn somersaults. She giggled and squealed with glee through the whole exercise. She sounds like I imagine someone would if they were on an amusement park ride, Harry thought. Harry looked up at his best mate's sister, who was waving down at him. He couldn't help grinning at her. He lowered her gently to the ground and switched wands. "Now I'll do it with her wand. Ready, Ginny?"

"Yes."

He repeated the performance, which went just as well as it had with his own wand. When Ginny was standing beside him again, Holly piped up eagerly.

"Can you do that with my wand, Harry?"

"Sure," Harry agreed, taking the offered wand and turning to Ginny. "Ready?"

"Yes."

Before Harry could lift his wand to cast the charm yet again, Holly broke in yet again, in her eagerness, she didn't realize that she interrupted her new friend's charm's work. "You promised me that there'd also be a healing squad. You haven't mentioned it yet, so are we still going to have the option to learn how to heal people?"

Harry chuckled at Holly's seemingly insatiable curiosity. "Yes, Holly. I had planned to tell you lot about it later on in the meeting. Are you listening second year's?"

A chorus of 'yeses' came his answer loud and clear.

"Madame Pomfrey offered to teach me a few healing spells one day when I had nothing better to do than go to the hospital wing, and Holly here had managed to scrape up her face and skin up her arms and stuff. Poppy had several other injured students to help, who were casualties of the first years' flying class. I eagerly learned the spells to Madame Pomfrey's satisfaction, so she let me practice my newly developed healing skills on Holly here who was a real trooper through it all. Ever since, Holly has had an interest in healing. Just the other day, I decided to make good on my promise and come join Holly at the Slytherin table, where she proceeded to inquire about the art of healing and how much training it would take to become a healer. It was then and their that I realized that during battles, people will be injured, and Madame Pomfrey can't be everywhere at once; I figured that it couldn't hurt to ask you lot if anyone else wanted to learn some basic healing techniques? If you're interested, I'll have a contract for everyone in the D.A. to sign and you need only make note of it on the parchment to join. For the first few weeks, you'll be learning some essential charms, spells, hexes and jinxes so that you'll be prepared to swoop in during a battle and retrieve any witches and wizards who've became casualties and take them behind the line of scrimmage to treat them. If Madame Pomfrey agrees, she and I will instruct you on an alternating schedule on everything healing related." A ball of dread sank right to the bottom of Harry's stomach when he thought about why he would be instructing the healing squad on an alternating schedule; Ron and Hermione were bound to discover that he only taught the healing squad when he was violently ill. How long would it take for them to put the pieces together?

Once his impromptu speech was given, Harry did the same things he'd done the first two times and set Ginny gently on her feet next to him again.

"Wicked!" Holly, Sean, and a few others breathed.

"But that's a first year Charms spell," Daphne Greengrass who was at the moment placed in the group of new students commented. "I thought we were going to learn useful spells."

"Ron knocked out a mountain troll and saved Hermione's life – and mine, too – with that spell in our first year," Harry commented dryly.

"He did?" The new students looked with new respect at the gangly redhead.

"Right, then. Let's start with that spell and see how you do," Harry told the group as he handed the wand back to Holly. Luna handed around feathers and she, Ginny, Ron, and Harry supervised the group as they all attempted to make their feathers fly. Harry did some corrections in technique, then stood back and watched his helpers teach. They were doing very well, so he went back to the older group, where Neville and Hermione were reviewing spells they'd done the past year.

"How are they doing?" he asked Hermione.

"Pretty well, actually. We've reviewed most of the basic spells and jinxes already, just briefly. Some people need to brush up on them, but nobody's seriously behind yet. I think we'd all like to work on our Patronus charms, and that will certainly impress the new people, too. Maybe even Daphne Greengrass and Parkenson will be suitably impressed," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Nothing like blowing their socks off in the first class, right?"

Harry laughed. "I like the way you think." He looked at the Second Year D.A. members and raised his voice above the din of flying spells. "You lot!"

"Yeah?" "Hey, Harry!" "Nice of you to join us!" "We thought you'd never pay attention to us!" the group called cheerfully.

"Yeah, nice to see you too. I'm glad you all came back this year (no one brought up the fact that one of their members was unwelcome back after her betrayal last term). I think we're going to learn a lot, especially with the school actively supporting us rather than us having to do it in secret!" This comment elicited general laughter. "All right, I'd like to see how you've done on perfecting your Patronus Charms over the holidays. Everyone do your Patronus – and if you haven't managed one yet, don't worry about it, we'll spend a good bit of time on them this year." The Second Years cast their spells amid much laughter and teasing, as some people had their Patronus chase the Patroni of other people. The First Years, including Parkenson and Daphne, (who until this point had been blowing up the feathers for fun since they had already demonstrated to Luna that they had mastered the hovering charm long ago) stopped what they were doing and gaped at the silvery forms gamboling around the Great Hall. Harry was pleased to see that even that Greengrass girl looked suitably impressed at the galloping Patroni.

"Alright, First and Second Years both, everyone sit down and we'll have a group session. We need to explain to the new people what the Patronus charm is, why we use it, and why some of you still don't have it conquered," he said with a teasing grin as he glanced around at the Second Years. He began a discussion of the purposes of the charm and how it was conjured, and the types of happy thoughts that seemed to work best. Then he added, "We've just been working on creating them. They have a serious purpose. They aren't supposed to just be pretty, although many of them are. I've asked Remus Lupin to find us a Boggart to work with so we can practice them against a Dementor."

"If it's a Boggart, where will we get the Dementor?" asked a tiny first year student.

"A Boggart is a shape-shifter, and it takes the form of whatever scares you most," Harry began. Harry prayed fervently that his greatest fear remained fear itself instead of something more immediately frightening to his own well-being. "In Ron's case, it's usually a spider." Ron shuddered. "In Seamus's case, it's often a banshee." Seamus gave a similar shudder to Ron's. "In my case, it's a Dementor. You'll be learning about Boggarts in your Defense classes, so don't worry about how to get rid of Boggarts right now. We don't want to get rid of our Boggart, we want him to keep coming out as a Dementor so we can practice on him." He looked around the room. "Which of you have seen or been near Dementors?" All of the fourth year and above students raised their hands. "Yes, I thought so. Some came on the Hogwarts Express during my third year in their search for Sirius Black. Who wants to tell us what it's like to have Dementors around?" He looked around at the raised hands and called on Colin Creevey.

"It gets all cold. The windows of the train frosted up. My water bottle froze. And I thought I'd never be happy again," Colin said with a shudder.

"That's right, Colin. Thank you." Harry turned to the rest of the group. "Those of you who know Colin know he's one of the most cheerful people you'll ever meet. It's almost impossible to catch him without a big happy grin on his face." There were some chuckles at this comment. Colin's relentless cheeriness was well-known throughout the school, but his younger brother, Dennis Creevey who was attending his first D.A. meeting, knew this more than anyone else in attendance. "Imagine, then, something horrible enough to make someone so cheerful think he'd never feel that way again."

A sudden nervous silence filled the room. "What he said was completely true. You'll feel very cold, you'll become very depressed, and you'll relive the worst memories of your life. And if you aren't careful, they can do the most awful thing to you I've ever heard of."

"What's that?" Holly asked timidly, not entirely sure that she really wanted her idle to answer the question.

"They can suck your soul right out of your mouth and you'll be an empty shell. Your body will live, but you won't have any mind, any personality, any soul at all. It's worse than death," Harry intoned seriously.

"Who'd want to keep on living after they became a soulless husk," asked Lavender horrified at the prospect of a person continuing to live all the while as a mindless, soulless shell.

"I doubt that the Ministry approves of this disposal method, but if it were me, I'd rather be humanely euthanized than go on living like that, if you can even call that living," said Harry frankly.

"There's only one person alive that anyone knows of who knows what a Dementor looks like under its hood," Hermione added quietly. "Harry was about to have his soul sucked out when he was saved by a Patronus."

"Wow…who saved him," someone breathed.

Hermione gulped. She had said too much. She glanced at Harry, who shrugged and said, "I saved myself. I thought it was my dad, but he's been dead since I was a year old. I saw a stag on the shore across the lake just before it charged the Dementors – my dad was an Animagus and his form was always a stag. I thought it was him. But it was me."

"How many Dementors did the stag drive away," asked Ernie McMillian curiously, having never heard the story before, he was naturally a bit curious.

Knowing that Harry was to shy about all things concerning his magnificent feats of magic, Hermione interjected, "Over a hundred, if the word of Severus Snape is to be believed; he's the one who brought Harry in from the lake."

"How in the world were you two places at once?" Ernie McMillian asked.

"We had a Time-Turner. Long story, and we can't go into details, but we went back in time…"

"By 'we,' who do you mean?" Michael Corner asked butting in.

"Hermione and I," Harry answered. "And I honestly am not at liberty to tell you a lot more except that we had a Time-Turner and went back in time a few hours, which is what saved our lives. Hermione had already fainted from the Dementors surrounding us, and my Patronus just wasn't strong enough to fight them all off…" Harry paused for breath.

"Anyway, one Dementor pushed back his hood and I saw its face – it was gray, slimy, and rotten looking, like a corpse that's been underwater, I guess, and there was only one opening, a huge mouth. It had me in its hands and was forcing my head back, ready to give me the Kiss, when the stag came charging across the lake and chased them all away. When I was there later, after using the Time-Turner, I waited to see my father, or whoever it was, cast the Patronus that saved Hermione and I, but then I realized it had to be me who did it. Nobody else was there. So, since I knew I'd already done it, I was able to do it, and I've been able to do them ever since." He shrugged as if this weren't a big deal.

"Did the stag run on top of the water, or splash through it, or what?" a wide-eyed girl asked.

"It ran across on top of the water, but you can see from what we've done here that they're just vapor–kind of." Harry shrugged again. "I don't know how else to explain it. The Patronus charm is ridiculously difficult, over N.E.W.T. standard, but since the Dementors have been turned loose on the population by Voldemort, it's important we all know how to fight them." He glanced at his watch. "Our time is up. Good work this afternoon. Sorry there was so much explanation and so little practical work, but now that we've got that behind us, we'll be working hard each session. I'll try to have a Boggart for the Second Years by next time. Keep working on your Patronus charms. And First Years, work hard on all the charms and spells you've learned in school. We'll be reviewing them here. If you're already good at them, you'll progress faster. Thanks for coming, everyone. Next week, same time. Have a fun afternoon!"

He stood up and started picking up feathers, along with Ron. Hermione held open a bag and said, "Accio feathers," which solved the problem neatly. Harry and Ron laughed at being caught doing things the "Muggle way." As they put their supplies away and moved the House tables back in place, Harry, Neville, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione chatted about the various students who'd joined them.

"I think you've got a fan problem in these new girls, Harry," Neville said in a teasing tone. "Want me to do something about them?"

Harry laughed and pulled him into a one armed "manly" hug. "I'll try to hold my own against them, but if they gang up on me, you're welcome to have a go at them!"

"I think it went very well, overall," Hermione commented as the five of them finished tidying up and prepared to leave the Great Hall. "The only prat we had to take to task was Michael Corner. But that's nothing new."

Harry was astonished quite frankly, that Ron and Hermione could pretend to get along for this long without blowing up at the other one, though he suspected that this was a onetime thing.

"I thought you were going to get yourself and Harry in trouble with that Time-Turner story," Ron chided, stopping before they left the Hall. "We've got to be careful what we say in here. We don't know if all of these people are actually on our side."

"You're right, Ron. I don't know what I was thinking," Hermione said.

"Yeah, that wasn't like you. Where was your mind?" Harry asked, looking at her curiously.

"I don't know. It just sort of popped out. It seemed like the right thing to say," she said with a shrug. "I hope it doesn't cause any trouble."

"Well, we didn't say when it happened, or who else, if anyone, was involved, and Dumbledore and McGonagall gave you permission to have the Time-Turner, so it should be OK," Harry said reassuringly, hoping that he was right.

After everything was set to rights, the five of them left the Great Hall. Harry was racking his brain frantically to come up with a plausible reason that he and Neville needed to depart from the group. He wasn't about to spill his guts to his friends right now. Too much had happened so far, and the day had barely begun.

Neville was a god-send though saying, "Harry and I have to work on that herbology project that Professor Sprout gave us a few weeks ago. It's due on Monday, and we're about to start something knew."

Harry would be eternally grateful to Neville for sparing him the enormous duty of telling his closest friends that he had brain cancer just yet.

Apparently, this started a new trend amongst the group of friends, because Ron suddenly had to go somewhere and meet Lavender; this infuriated Hermione who then huffed off all in a snit headed for the library to finish up a homework assignment for ancient runes. This just left Ginny, Harry and Neville.

"So what's really going on," asked Ginny slyly.

"How'd you guess," asked Harry curiously.

"I'm not related to Fred and George for nothing, you know," shot back Ginny fiercely.

"If I tell you something, will you promise to keep it between the three of us for now," asked Harry using this as a test to see if he could eventually confide in Ginny about his brain tumor and also if she'd keep quiet about it.

"Of course," replied Ginny. "After you took care of Corner for me so adequately, I owe you one."

"I'm sure that you're aware that Poppy banned me from playing Quidditch, that's no secret, because by now the whole school knows. As a kind of restitution for the ban, she gave me a pass that allows me and a select few people to accompany me off campus anytime we like."

"Wicked!" Neville exclaimed, who was hearing this for the first time.

"That's neat," said Ginny. "So let me guess, you and Neville are going somewhere and you didn't want to mention it to Ron because of his perpetual habit of jealousy."

'Not exactly.' Thought Harry, though he didn't correct her and allowed her to draw her own conclusions, so that when he finally told his friends, he wouldn't have directly lied to Ginny, just misguided her thought processes a bit.

Before any of them could say another word, Harry dropped to the floor and started convulsing violently.

Peeves whizzed by the two friends who knelt by their friend helpless to do anything to aid Harry. They hadn't ever seen anyone have a fit like this before, so they didn't know that when someone is having a gran mall seizure, you should attempt to get them onto their left side to help them breathe better, and to try and stop the person from hitting their head on something hard.

Ginny watched her friend fall to the ground in abject horror; his arms and legs started jerking spastically. He looked uncannily like a fish floundering out of water. She had never seen anything like it before. His visions from you-know-who had never caused him to go into a fit like this. So if you-know-who wasn't the cause for her friend's fit, then what was?

"Peeves!"

"What does Mr. Long bottom who can't keep his overly large bottom from hitting everything within one meter of him want from Peevesy now?"

"If you don't stop blathering on like a moron this instant, and shut it, I'll get the Bloody Barron up here right now. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Peevesey hears you, but that doesn't mean that I have to listen to you. Was on my way to drop some ink pots on the heads of some unexpecting firstys; now let me go about my business."

"No," said Neville frantically. "We need Madame Pomfrey here right away! There's something badly wrong with our friend here. Can't you see that he's in trouble? Or are you too blind to the suffering of others around you to give a flying fuck?"

hdhdhd

A/N: Fizzy drinks are the equivalent of soft drinks in America. The discussion about Harry's inheritance of number 12 and Remus's task were deliberately introduced in this chapter, and I also meant for them to take place off screen. I avoid restating cannon whenever possible, but wanted you readers to know why Remus is going to be absent for a time and why Poppy referred to Black's will as being Harry's inheritance now. As far as I know, Madam Pomfrey was never a member of the order in cannon, but I diverged from cannon here, because in future chapters, if she's going to be expected to save order members lives after battles, she should at least be given the respect due her if she's going to save their bacon. Of course, since Poppy took the Healer's Oath, she still has to do her duty to save death eaters, though she will primarily look out for her own first. As for Draco, I couldn't really see Harry dating a willing death eater; that goes against his moral code. So now, Draco's father is pressuring him to sign up. Naturally, he is waging an internal war with himself, because he wants somewhere deep down inside to please his scumbag of a father, yet he knows that he isn't willing to kill needlessly for a man's cause that he no longer entirely believes in. He'll still be his nasty self on occasions and he'll probably spy for someone, to negate the evil berk persona. Choosing to be a spy doesn't exempt him from going through the initiation process, which will undoubtedly leave a mark on his soul…but you'll learn more about that as the story progresses.

The comment about Severus being the one to bring them up to the hospital wing and some lines in the telling of the Time-Turner incident was adapted from the movie rather than the book.

*smirks* I just couldn't resist leaving you with the evil cliffhanger. Will Peeves cooperate for once in his existence as a poltergeist? Or will either Neville or Ginny have to go summon Madame Pomfrey leaving the other one their to watch helplessly as their friend continues to seize? Neither Neville nor Ginny know that the longer a person seizes, and the more continual seizures that one has especially if they happen one right after the other, the more likely said person could suffer neurologically. Their used to be a guy in my class at school when I was little, and he had seizures often; he would have four or five right in a row. When the school nurse came to the classroom, the student was always in pretty bad shape which is understandable after suffering multiple gran mall seizures (which are the seizures that are typically depicted on television dramas for their very visual effect) There are many different types of seizures and most of them don't involve the person falling and going into a full-blown seizure, with their arms and legs flailing, that type is known as a gran mall seizure and is the most dangerous. Someone who has a large brain tumor would likely have suffered from seizures earlier than Harry has, but I wanted to wait until right before he'd be prescribed anticonvulsants, for added affect. Once he's given the drugs, he most likely won't suffer from gran mall seizures, instead, someone who suffers 'break through seizures' (which are seizures that happen despite the drugs) with brain tumors only suffer absence seizures; this will all be explained to Harry in the next chapter or two and it'll hopefully make more sense to you then.

Some of the authors notes are for part one but I forgot to tell you guys then why things were the way they are now, so I put everything here for your own convenience.

Any guesses as to what the ingredient is? I'll tell you this, it's an important one, but rare.

In case you're curious, Severus and Dumbledore's vocabulary is greater than the children's because I'm trying to give each character depth, and that includes making their vocabulary and comprehension consistent of someone of their age.


End file.
